All We Were and All We Are
by CminorAdagio
Summary: Using Series 10 spoilers. Although Harry has successfully returned to the grid, life is not any easier. It seems his life is on the line once again, but this seems to put Ruth in even more danger.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer- characters belong to Spooks and Kudos. This is simply recreational. Here is my first attempt at a fanfiction story. I think the first two chapters ramble a bit, and are a bit angsty but hopefully it will be better. Please review :) The basis of the story is set during series 10 using the spoilers that have been released.**

** Chapter 1**

"Scarlet!" Harry called in frustration, having almost finished making himself presentable. This indeed was a feat he had rarely achieved over the last two months. Having been 'temporarily suspended' from the service, pending the inquiry, Harry had not really seen much point in dressing to impress with only Scarlet for company. That dog, Harry had thought darkly, would consider any human being on earth handsome, if they offered her a decent enough meal. The only times it had been necessary to go out in smart attire had been to sit through the inquiry itself. Scrutinizing his career with a fine tooth comb was both very draining and extremely humiliating; as was the novelty of being questioned by the most self-glorified, sanctimonious, and machiavellian panel he had ever had the displeasure to meet. The only thing that had kept him going throughout the sessions had been his sureness that these men, had they been in the same situations as he had over the years, would have probably made the same decisions, or more likely have cracked sooner. In short, they were all talk and paperwork, and no action. Still, Harry had to concede; at least they were not politicians. Starting down the stairs, Harry called again, this time much louder:

"Scarlet!"

Within seconds the little terrier came bounding obediently in to the hall to greet her master, wagging her tail happily, and staring at him innocently. The only tell tale sign that she was not as innocent as she was making out, was the fact that Harry's red tie was dangling pathetically from her jaws. Harry sighed, and tugged at the tie until the little dog relinquished her grip, became bored and wandered into the hallway.

Harry's eyes followed her before he sighed and glanced down at the material in his hand. Scarlet had clearly slobbered all over it and Harry also noticed the presence of teeth marks.

"Thank you Scarlet," Harry sighed sarcastically, and trudged back upstairs to find another tie- that would teach him to leave his clothes spread out on the bed.

As he tied a more miserable grey tie around his collar, Harry moved towards the mirror and stared at his reflection. A tubby, middle-aged, balding man stared back; a man whose weary facial expression mirrored that of his miserable grey tie.

"What am I doing?" He thought aloud.

What was the point in going back to a job he was tired of? If Harry had had a chance to talk to his twenty-five year old self, he would perhaps have warned him to avoid this job at all costs. As he had so recently found out, being a tool of the state was not so nearly as enchanting with the knowledge that it could turn on you at any moment. For the past two months Harry had been convinced it was the end of his career- it would be loss of job if not prison or even exile. Yet, he had come out suspiciously well from the situation with his career, life and even knighthood intact. He wondered briefly who must have had a hand in this surprising outcome- the Home Secretary probably, although he could not help but ponder why he had so desperately taken measures to help him. A decent politician- was there such a thing? Either that or he had more friends than he thought. Harry rather hoped it was the latter, for during the course of the inquiry he had only really been reminded of the many enemies he had made over the years.

Had he friends back at the grid? Harry had always preferred to think of them as colleagues rather than friends; it was always easier that way if anything came to them. He had been doing this job too long and he knew it. He had seen too many people die- each death more painful than the last. Over the last ten years Harry had dealt with the death of eleven colleagues. Eleven. Colleagues who, despite Harry's outward declaration that that was all they were, he nevertheless considered them as friends. Who did he have left? Adam and Ros were dead, Tom was decommissioned, Malcolm had retired, Juliet- some friend she turned out to be, and Dimitri and Beth had barely scratched the surface in getting to know him.

But there was only one name that stood out as he asked himself that question. Ruth. Harry swallowed and tried not to think about her, but she was not an easy woman to forget. Sweet, gentle, brave Ruth. It was true, she had lost her sweetly naïve, overenthusiastic nature a long time ago, but that same woman existed- he knew of the heart and gentleness underneath the cold shell. He had seen that person. But then, pretty much all he had thought of over the past two months since his suspension, was her. Harry swallowed again, a lump coming to his throat. What would Ruth do when she saw him again? He knew her well enough to know she would be angry, and hurt that he had not kept in touch with her since…well. As he slipped on his jacket, Harry tried not to think of how much he had hurt her through both his job, and his feelings.

Harry descended the stairs, and his mind switched back to why he was actually going back in the first place. To put it bluntly, he had been flattered. Flattered that after everything he had done- after the trial- that they still wanted him back. It was one of his many faults- a fault that Ruth would almost certainly have noted. Even after all these years, Harry Pearce was still easily flattered, and in coming back, it would return some of his pride. Plus, he thought deciding to head straight to the grid without breakfast; he had to see her again, even if it meant facing whatever she would throw at him. Hopefully not literally.

Closing his eyes then opening them again, in a frantic effort to revert to no-nonsense, business Harry, he stepped out of the door, locked it and headed towards the car.

* * *

><p><em>Two Months Earlier<em>

_Harry drew his phone back into his pocket, and sighed. Now it really was all over. In the space of one phone call…well, in the space of a few hours really, he had thrown away almost 30 years of loyal service. And was it worth it? Was Ruth happy or even grateful that he had saved her life? No. She was angry at him when he couldn't do anything to save her, George and Nico. She was angry at him when he had risked everything to do something to save her. He could not win either way. He had lost her, and he had in all likelihood lost his career, if not much more. _

_Now beginning to feel the cold, despite the warmth of his thick black coat, Harry moved away from the balcony, towards the door back to the grid. He was all too aware that this was probably the last time he would ever be up here again. When he returned to the grid, it might be one of the last, if not __**the**__ last time he would set foot in Thames House. He walked slowly down each corridor, taking the time to take in the detail. He wondered what would happen on the grid. No doubt, they would all pay for his actions. And yet, he thought miserably, he would hand over Albany again to save Ruth, if he had to. _

_The pods opened and he stepped through the doors. He noticed that virtually no one was there, and he checked his watch. It was almost midnight- he had not realised it was that late. Yet as he approached the area where his more senior staff worked, he noticed Dimitri, Beth and Tariq sitting in a group around one of the desks. Upon his approach, Dimitri and Beth stood up and looked at him, concerned. Harry bitterly noted Ruth's absence. _

"_Is Lucas really…? I mean, did he really…?" Beth asked, still in shock at the last twenty-four hours._

"_Yes." Harry replied shortly. He winced at how harsh he sounded. It had been a long day, and he was tired. _

_There was a pause as everyone processed this information before Dimitri sighed, "So what happens now?" _

"_Well," Harry said, wondering how best to break it to them. "My past is going to catch up with me I'm afraid. In all likelihood I'll be suspended as soon as possible, if not tomorrow. For me, after that…who knows? As for you, you'll probably be under some scrutiny for a while, but I'll make sure none of this comes back on any of you."_

_Beth, at this point shook her head at the unfairness of it all, whilst Dimitri swore under his breath. Tariq remained quiet and stared resolutely at the computer screen in front of him. After a few minutes, Beth said furiously, "They can't just throw you out in to the cold! Not after everything you've done for the service."_

"_Ah," Harry smiled wanly. "Well. That's the nature of the job. One mistake- one big mistake and it's all over."_

_Silence resumed once again. Harry looked desperately in the direction of Ruth's desk. Apparently, she was so disgusted with him; she could not even stand to look at him. All of them could see what he was thinking, but they waited for him to ask the question in his own time. _

"_Where's Ruth?" he asked eventually. _

_Beth bit her lip, and looked at her other two colleagues. When they had returned from the station, Ruth had been in a state. Her eyes had been watery, red and puffy, and Tariq had pointlessly indicated to them that she had been crying. From reports they were getting, they had been convinced of Harry's death. She had been a bit better when she had heard he was alive but she was still flustered, and panicky- even more so than usual. The type someone got when getting over a big shock. Then when she had almost keeled over through exhaustion and worry, Dimitri had escorted her up to the on call doctor himself, to check for any side effects from the concoction Lucas had given her. Despite her pleas that she was alright, Dimitri had left her there, and thankfully she had not come back. The Doctor had called about half an hour before Harry's arrival to tell them she had gone home. Upon hearing this, Harry immediately felt guilty for thinking such bitter thoughts about her both on the roof, and when he had come in. _

_Once there was nothing left to really say, Harry bid them goodnight. Aware it may be the last time he would see them again, he mentioned how proud he was of them, shook both men by the hand, and gave Beth a brief hug. Then, with as much dignity as he had always had, Harry Pearce swung around, and left the building_


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for the reviews. I can see what some of you mean- writing fanfic is addictive. I hope you like the story so far- sorry there isn't really anything new yet, but it will get a lot more interesting. Promise :)Can't wait for the new Series on Sunday! **

Ruth leaned heavily on her desk, exhausted, and feeling too tired to do anything but stare out into the meeting room, where Erin was being briefed by some very tiresome politicians.

"Do you make it your business to pry on everything?" Dimitri asked as he arrived at her desk, carrying a large stack of files. He stopped and added to her already toppling pile, before sitting next to her at his desk, and adding more to his own considerably large pile. He surveyed his colleague, who had, at his comment ducked her head, a red tinge appearing in her cheeks; she hurriedly proceeded with the files Dimitri had just given her. Dimitri had to admit, the entire time he had known Ruth, she had not exactly been happy-go-lucky or energetic, but he knew healthy and in recent months, Ruth had most definitely not been it. Her normally pale cheeks had descended into a chalk white colour, the frown lines on her face had doubled over the last two months, and there were large bags under her eyes- the tell tale sign that she obviously had disregarded the concept of sleep. The lack of sleep and extreme stress seemed to finally be taking effect on poor Ruth- he had rarely seen her eat anything at work, and she had been sick several times. She thought no one had noticed. Of course Dimitri thought he knew the reason for this, but there just was not anything that could be done to amend the situation- she missed Harry, but he was gone now. It was clear to Dimitri that Harry had not even bothered to talk to Ruth since his suspension, but it was not Harry who had sat there for the past two months and watched this woman disintegrate.

Dimitri felt guilty over his teasing her, so he added, "I never thought I'd say this, but I miss the days I went out in the field."

Ruth turned and stared at him. They all knew her views on field work.

"You know what I mean," Dimitri told her, sighing. "At least we don't have to die of boredom doing this."

"Oi." Ruth said, smiling in spite of herself. "This all I normally do all day."

"Then I commend you." Dimitri grinned. He looked down and opened the first file and prepared to start reading. He glanced slyly at Ruth, who had her head in her arms. "Give me a bomb to work on any day." He muttered grinning.

Ruth's head shot up and she glared at him, although the tiny lift at the side of her mouth told him she wasn't too cross. Dimitri grinned once more and reluctantly returned to his work. After Harry's suspension, Section D was no longer trusted with such matters and until they got a new Section Head, the JIC would complete their operations.

Ruth looked again in the direction of the meeting room- at Erin shouting down politicians in a perfectly adequate fashion, yet she could not help thinking Harry could have done better. He was always very good at getting his own way. She then turned her head and stared desperately at Harry's office, as if staring would bring him back. She had not seen or heard from him for two months- she had absolutely no idea how the enquiry had gone. She did not even know whether he was still in the country or not. No word from a man who had claimed to love and care about her. Ruth could feel anger boiling in the pit of her stomach- anger, hurt and fear. Fear that, despite everything she and the Home Secretary had done to help his cause recently, he would not be shielded from their angry superiors; anger that he had her so little in his thoughts; he could not even be bothered to keep in touch. And yet…she knew deep down that she still loved him- that had not changed. Despite everything he and the job had done to her, particularly in recent times, she could not stop caring about him. That brought tears prickling in her eyes, and she blinked them away in frustration. She could not think about him anymore- he obviously did not care, and he was not coming back. She had more important things to think about now.

Her expression suddenly changed to that of deep anxiety, and she froze. Dimitri, who had merely been glancing at the files, rather than taking them in, noticed her change in state and looked up. A concerned expression flitted across his face.

"Ruth?" He asked softly. "Are you alright?"

Ruth however was feeling too ill to answer.

"Ruth, have you eaten anything today?" he asked, beginning to stand up, but before he could reach or even get a reply out of her, she sprung up and jogged in the direction of the pods, clutching her stomach. Dimitri watched her go, shaking his head. He had heard about people cracking due to the pressure of the job, or even deaths of loved ones, but never due to...well...the relationship between Harry and Ruth- it was too complicated to even begin to explain. He had kept Ruth's state to himself recently, out of loyalty. He was surprised that for supposed Spooks, no one else had noticed. Erin barely associated herself with the team unless it was for briefings, considering herself vastly superior, despite only being Section Chief. She was alright in her own way, but far too ambitious sometimes for her own good. Lucas may have noticed, he thought bitterly, but he was gone. Beth -she lived with Ruth for a year or so and would surely have observed this behaviour- but she too was gone. Tariq, although brilliant and his heart in the right place, had the common sense and the sensitivity of a teaspoon. He thus did not notice or consider anything relevant that wasn't encased in metal or plastic. Finally, Calum, though he was also obsessed with gadgets, had been brought in by Erin, and so at times had the same overly ambitious attitude, yet at others he was completely laid back. So laid back, he did not notice the possibility of a potential breakdown on the grid. Dimitri reluctantly decided it might the sensible thing to report Ruth's state to Erin. Ruth would not like it, but surely it was for her own good.

* * *

><p><em>Two Months earlier<em>

_Ruth closed her door and leant against it for support. Feeling too weak to even move was not something she was used to, but she reasoned this was probably due to the concoction of drugs she had been fed through the drip, mere hours ago. Hours that seemed like years. She rested her head against the cool glass panes and concentrated on breathing in and out, steadily. Shaking, she dropped her large bag onto the floor, and walked slowly into the living room. _

_It was odd that everything in the room was the same, and yet today, so many things had changed. Her whole perception of Lucas North and gone completely out the window. Harry, whom she knew cared about her, but would never risk lives or his job for her, had done so. The worst part was that he had done this quite willingly. She had been angry with him- cruel almost. But the truth was she scared. Scared what the gesture would bring for him, scared to be loved that much, scared that he would not ever forgive her for what she said. Worries zoomed around her head until she could bear it no more. She collapsed on the sofa, and cried._

* * *

><p>"Where is Ruth?" Erin asked sharply, noticing her colleague's absence. She was clearly in a bad mood for some reason or another.<p>

She turned to frown at each one of them in turn. Tariq looked at her bewildered, for he had been so absorbed in his task; he had not noticed Ruth's absence at all. Calum did not deign to respond, and kept his eyes on his computer screen, with an air of boredom. Erin's eyes rested on Dimitri, who huddled as best he could over his paperwork, not wanting to give Ruth away just yet. Thinking about doing something and actually doing it was another matter. He decided he could not yet bring himself to give Ruth away, and he turned to Erin, putting on his best nonchalant expression.

"Who knows?"

Erin glared at Dimitri, not buying it at all.

"If she thinks she can just walk out of work just because her precious boss isn't here then she's got another thing coming. I know she's been here the longest and walks around like a wet weekend each day, but that doesn't give her the right to swan in and out when she pleases. "

Calum could not stop a snort at her comment, and Dimitri's head shot round to glare at him, and then at Erin.

"Oi!-She's done more for this department than anyone here today. She does ten times the work you do Calum, for less wages, and without the arrogant attitude."

Calum smiled again, clearly thinking this was just a bit of office banter. He suddenly realised they were deadly serious when he earned a rare glare from Tariq.

"Just shut up." He said quietly, but meaningfully.

Calum had the good grace to look quite ashamed, and he blanched, suddenly realising Erin had _actually_ been getting at Ruth, whom he liked immensely. To some extent, it was true what Erin had said about being depressed, but everyone on the grid liked Ruth- he did not know anyone didn't. Even Erin had to admit she liked her- but when Erin was in a bad mood, she was in a horrible mood with everybody.

"Enough!" Erin growled. "All three of you- meeting room now. We've got news."

At that moment, Ruth returned through the pods, looking noticeably rather worse for wear. Her hair was a little windblown, suggesting she had wisely taken the opportunity of being away for some fresh air. She walked carefully up to the group, in a manner that suggested she could collapse any second.

"Are you okay?" Dimitri asked, shooting another glare at both Erin and Calum. Calum had clearly finally sensed that they were not joking, and he looked extremely guilty, so Dimtri's glare for Calum did not last long.

"Fine," Ruth lied easily. She looked round Dimitri, Calum, Tariq and Erin, all of whom were deadly quiet. "What's going on?" she sighed. The last thing they needed was further lack of morale, due to pointless arguing. And she could tell. They had been arguing.

"More to the point," Erin snapped. "You are not permitted to leave the grid of your own accord. You may have got away with it before, but not now. We are under observation. Remember?"

Ruth realised Erin was in one of her bad moods, and normally would have tried to placate her, but being embarrassed in front of her colleagues was something she had always hated. And recently, she had felt angry. The slightest things seemed to set her off and now she felt that same sensation rise up again. Several years ago, she would have ducked her head and apologised most profusely. Now she said, "Last time I checked Erin, it was not a crime to nip to the toilet."

Erin glared at her, whilst Dimitri laughed out loud- Tariq rewarded Ruth's statement with a wide grin. Calum's face fell into something part way between a smile and a frown, not knowing whose side to take, as he was loyal to both parties. He liked the working with Section D, but similarly he had worked with Erin for a number of years. Finally, the tense silence was broken by Erin storming in the direction of the meeting room, yelling over her shoulder, "Meeting room now!"

**Please Review xx the next chapter shall be up soon as well!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here is the next chapter as promised xx Please Review!**

"You all knew my position as leader of this team was strictly temporary-" Erin began, not looking at all pleased at the thought of this. She was still flushed from her confrontation with Ruth.

Dimitri, Ruth and Tariq all looked down at the desk- when she was not in a temper, or in overly-ambitious mode, Erin was a good colleague- she was fair, had a good sense of humour and had certain leadership qualities; but they all preferred Harry. Ruth could not help but feel a tiny prick of anger whenever she glimpsed Erin in Harry's office, sitting in Harry's chair, and speaking on Harry's old phone. It was not right, and to her, it never would be.

"But I'm afraid the visit I just had from our superior colleagues means that we now have an elected Section Head, who is going to take over the post. I am going to stay on as Section Leader." At the final sentence, she rather looked as if she had swallowed an extremely sour lemon; she sucked her tongue behind her teeth in disapproval. Ruth was sure that Erin had been planning to do such a good job, that she might be considered the best candidate after all, and given a massive promotion. This apparently had not happened. No wonder she looked furious.

"A new Section Head?" Tariq sighed. He had been hoping against hope that even after the inquiry, Harry may return. Despite the older man's tempers at times, he respected him and his skills enormously. He also treated each one of them fairly- something which rarely happened in the security services, with the amount of corruption that seemed to go on and on. He and Dimitri looked at Ruth, who had paled even more, and could not bear to look Erin in the face. Instead she turned her gaze intently to the table, and twisted her hands anxiously in her lap. After a few seconds she asked in a disturbingly quiet and fragile voice:

"Who?"

Erin's eyes flashed at the other woman's question, but she eventually sighed, unable to yell anymore at Ruth, who looked as if she was about to break into a thousand pieces. Said with a tone of extreme distaste:

"Harry Pearce."

All of the heads in the room literally shot round to face Erin, who in turn, withdrew her chair, got up and stomped out of the door. The heels on her boots could be heard against the black, polished floor of the grid. They could all safely assume her anger at the lack of promotion would be taken out on unfortunate junior personnel, and the young man she had formally deemed as 'that idiot who makes the tea'.

The remaining four took a few seconds to comprehend this information. Ruth, if it was possible, had paled even further, and looked as if she was about to be sick again, Dimitri and Tariq were staring in bewilderment at one another. Calum looked equally as bewildered- he had heard about Harry Pearce, and he seemed to be a good leader, but after everything he had heard over the Albany affair, he did not think he would ever see the man, let alone work under him.

"Yes!" Dimitri said gleefully.

"Did I hear right?" Tariq asked him. "Harry is coming back?"

"Yep."

"As Section Head?"

"Correct."

Tariq stared in shock, before saying slightly dazed, "Cool."

"He must have won over the inquiry panel." Dimitri said. "Sly old dog- of course he would have. I've never known Harry Pearce rendered with the inability to get out of a situation. Not only has he not been exiled to Timbuktu, he's coming back, just as good as ever. I know one person who'll be pleased eh Ruth?"

Dimitri grinned at Ruth, who was sat opposite him, but to his surprise she did not raise a smile. She did not even look remotely happy about this news. In fact, she looked as if she was in shock, and had still not entirely processed this information. Ruth had frozen mid-fidget.

"Ruth?"

"Of course she'll be pleased," Tariq said grinning, everyone who had been on the grid last year knew how Harry and Ruth felt about each other, even if they refused to admit it.

Ruth rather looked as if she was about to cry, yet she seemed to hold herself together long enough to shoot Tariq and Dimitri a reproachful look before shooting up from her chair and hurrying out of the room. By now she looked deathly white.

"What's wrong with Ruth?" Tariq asked, watching her through the window, apparently finally realising something was terribly wrong.

_Ruth woke with a start, and found herself curled up on her sofa, arms firmly wrapped around Fidget, who had made himself comfortable in her lap. He of course loved it when she got upset, because he always knew there would be an extra cuddle and attention in it for him. It had not taken the cat long to hear her muffled sobs from the living room, before he headed towards the sounds. Ruth, upon seeing Fidget, and desperately in need of comforting, picked the cat up and buried her face in his fur. Now she looked at the clock on the mantelpiece and was shocked to see that it was almost three hours later. It was already past 11:00. She must have cried herself to sleep on the sofa; and she was exhausted from the long events of the day. _

_Ruth shifted a little from her position on the sofa, bleary-eyed and wondering why she had woken up so suddenly. Fidget was purring contentedly on her lap- he would not move now unless offered a very large can of sardines. She breathed in deeply, and recognised the familiar weight of misery, and emptiness in her stomach and body. The result was a rather shaky breath out; just as one usually felt after having a good long cry. Ruth stared around the room, and listened intently- there did not appear to be a sound- only Fidgets purring, the clock on the mantle ticking away, and the sound of her own rustling clothes. So why then had she started awake so suddenly? She did not think she had been experiencing a nightmare, although they were extremely common these days. The number of nights she had only been relieved with a couple of hours sleep were regular, as were the countless times she flew upwards from her pillows screaming. _

_And then she heard it; an ever so gentle, tentative tap on the door. She listened as it sounded once again, this time a little louder. It took her three times to realise that she must either answer it or at the very least see who was knocking. After the day she had had she was not taking any chances. Besides, in her job it was commonplace to be suspicious when she had visitors at quarter past eleven at night. It was even rarer for Ruth to have a visitor; her family were dead, and the only people she could possibly conceive as friends were those on the grid. Ruth swallowed and glanced anxiously around for an object in which to use to combat an opponent if necessary. She spotted the old mini statue of Homer, which she used occasionally as a paperweight, residing on the coffee table. She hastily snatched it up, and headed slowly towards the door. The knocking was growing more and more insistent. She spoke through the door, in what she intended to be a calm, brave voice, but it came out hoarse from the amount of crying she had done over the course of the evening. _

"_Who is it?"_

_The knocking stopped abruptly- the person on the other side must have been shocked by her sudden inclination to answer. That was not always a good sign if it was someone who had come to harm you, and she prepared for the worst. But then someone quite different answered:_

"_Ruth, it's me." _

_Ruth stepped back, quite unnecessarily, but out of surprise that Harry Pearce was outside her door. The man who several hours ago given his career to save her life; who she had been crying over for the latter hours. _

"_It's Harry." He added unnecessarily, and with an air of awkwardness. He was possibly regretting his decision to come. Her heart almost broke- he sounded so tired and forlorn. After a moment's hesitation, Ruth sniffed, and wiped her eyes to assure there were no traces of her tears. She straightened out her crumpled clothes without much effect, and unlocked the door slowly. After opening it a fraction, she came face to face with the man himself. He looked as exhausted as he sounded, his hair stuck up in various directions, and his eyes were sad…lost. It was an expression she was used to herself, as well as seeing it plastered on his face for the past few months. An expression she had agonised over putting there. _

"_Harry…" she said softly, cursing herself for sounding so fragile and inarticulate. _

"_Dimitri told me what happened," he explained after a beat, noticing her red eyes and pale cheeks almost immediately, despite her efforts. He gave her a gentle smile. "I wanted to see if you were alright." _

"_I'm fine." Ruth lied immediately, but even she noticed the forcefulness of her comment. _

_There was a pause as they both contemplated what to say. _

"_Good." Harry said after a few seconds. "I apologise for the lateness of the hour. You weren't asleep were you?" he added, eyeing her crumpled clothes. Ruth, embarrassed looked at the floor. After hours of crying she had not the strength to put up any barriers, or reply with some smart comment in the style of her usual caustic wit. The fragility in the woman he saw before him gave Harry a little more strength and he took charge of the situation. He gave another reassuring smile. _

"_Can I come in?" he suggested, pointing behind Ruth and inside the house._

_Ruth nodded, and opened the door to let him in. Harry, wondering how he had got this far, stepped through the threshold. As he had always imagined Ruth's house, it was full of materials, statues and paintings a classicist would naturally cleave. The soft colours of the walls and paintings portrayed a Ruth he knew years ago; the one who seemed to stand in front of him now- not numb and hardened like the woman he had known since her return. But then again, he was not sure if he wanted to take joy out of the fact that her tear ducts seemed well spent; that she was so awkward and anxious around him again. At least she had been frank with him recently, to say the least. He watched as Ruth closed the door again, slipping in the latch for good measure. She turned to stare listlessly at his coat lapels. She looked lost. He so badly wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her, but knew that at that moment it may be going a bit too far. _

"_Would you like some tea?" Ruth asked suddenly, still a little hoarse, and sounding as if she had a rather bad head cold._

_Harry smiled gently at her, wondering how he could possibly have been angry with her a few hours ago. "I'd love some."_

"Ruth?" Dimitri asked, striding across the grid and sitting on her desk so that he could face her. "Who's Max Witt?"

Ruth, who had been staring in to space for the last couple of hours jumped as she turned and suddenly found Dimitri had mysteriously materialised on her desk. She had been so absorbed in her own thoughts; she had not even heard what Dimitri had said to her.

"What?"

"Who's Max Witt?" Dimitri repeated, noticing Ruth was behaving even more oddly than usual, but took it that it was just the shock of Harry's unexpected return to the Grid. He presented her with the file he had been reading. She took it from him began to read the opening page. The name rang a bell, though she could not place it.

"I'm not sure." she admitted, glancing up briefly before reading further on. Dimitri looked mock disappointed:

"And here was me thinking you were a human edition of Google." He grinned cheekily. Ruth did not take the bait.

"Why?" she asked whilst still reading.

"He's dead." Dimitri said simply.

Ruth checked the file- there was no decease date. "According to this he's not."

"Then how come it was on the 'Deceased' pile on Erin's desk?"

Ruth looked sharply at him; "On Erin's desk?" she looked at the office. "Without her permission? Where Erin is now currently sitting shouting at and making sob the most fearful of politicians."

"The same." He said. "Although you can't find her all that fearful after what you said to her earlier."

Ruth blanched, but she continued, "How on earth did you get this?"

Dimitri gave her a look as if it was an obvious question, "Off Erin's desk, in Erin's office, when Erin wasn't there."

"What?"

"As for how did I get it," Dimitri continued. "I looked at it on her desk. I then picked it up off her desk and opened it. I then read a few lines before I noticed her coming back from lunch, and now I am here asking if you know anything about him."

"Funny." Ruth said in what she hoped was a sarcastic tone, but even she could feel the corners of her mouth turning up. She looked up at Dimitri who was still looking expectantly at her.

"I wouldn't put anything in it that she's not given us the case yet." She said sighing. "You've seen the way the grid has been run lately. Perhaps she was forwarding it to another department. Either that or she's been in a mood all day so forgot about it."

Dimitri shrugged and nodded at the file, "Says in there he was a retired MI5 officer."

Ruth looked down and continued to read.

"And," Dimitri pursued. "he died just two days ago, under suspicious circumstances."

Ruth looked up suddenly and swallowed. Dimitri knew she had just reached the part he had finished at when he first brought the file to her.

"He worked with Harry." Ruth said quietly. "In the 80s in Berlin, during the Cold War?"

"Wasn't that period supposed to be being investigated at his tribunal?"

Ruth blinked and stared at him in surprise, what questions were being asked in his tribunal were not supposed to be common knowledge. It just so happened that Towers had alerted her to a few things which she had then secretly been able to help Harry's case with, though he did not know about this.

"Come on Ruth," Dimitri said. "Berlin and Ireland were the places Harry's reputation made him re-known throughout the service- they'd be bonkers not to investigate that."

And then the name Max Witt clicked in Ruth's brain and she looked suddenly anxious.

"What?" Dimitri asked.

"Max Witt was supposed to be testifying at some point during Harry's tribunal." She said softly.

Dimitri raised his eyebrows as if to ask how she knew this but did not say word.

"Apparently he was some kind of legend."

"He was." Said a familiar voice coldly from behind them. They had both been so absorbed in the discussion they had not noticed Erin stride up behind them, despite the clinking heel on her boots. She held out her hand for the file, which Ruth reluctantly gave her.

"In future," she said. "I'd prefer it if you'd wait until I gave the briefing before you decide to take cases into you own hands."

"Erin," Ruth said, sounding suddenly frightened. "Does Harry coming back have anything to do with Max Witt's murder?"

"I'm afraid it does."

All three of them, including many other faces on the grid looked up to see Harry Pearce standing just inside the grid, his back to the pods. He looked round each of them in turn before his eyes rested on Ruth.

**Now I know I am not going to finish this story before Sunday- so I've probably got the characterisations all wrong but I hope you like it anyway. Things are now going to get a lot more interesting. How's the grid going to react to having Harry back? Is Ruth alright? What happened two months earlier? ...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry it's been such a while to update. This is a little behind with the episodes at the moment, but I hope you like it anyway. Loving Series 10 so far :) Please R&R!**

"Harry!" Dimitri said grinning, and he offered the older man his hand. "It's good to have you back."

Erin looked a little peeved at Dimitri's enthusiasm to have his old boss back, but Harry smiled and shook Dimitri's extended hand warmly.

"It's good to be back." He smiled, still with his eyes fixed on Ruth, who was staring, seemingly frozen to her seat. She looked neither happy nor upset to see him- she just stared weakly back at him. Saddened and knowing this was not going to be easy, Harry put on his best 'grid' voice and turned to Dimitri.

"Is it just me or are you getting a few age lines." He sparred verbally, smiling, and Ruth recognised an element of the old Harry.

"Oi." Dimitri grinned. "You know as well as I do, you age about ten times faster in this job."

"Too true." Harry smiled sadly and noticed Tariq standing just behind Dimitri, he having got up and scrambled over to the party as soon as he had seen Harry come through the pods.

"Good to see you Tariq." Harry smiled and shook Tariq's hand as well. He had always admired Tariq for his honesty, and frankness. He had noticed something akin to pity in Dimitri's eyes, although it had barely shown; he had obviously been glad to see him. Tariq however seemed to just be happy to see him again. Harry considered what he had thought this morning about having no friends, and his smile widened. "Not sure about the hair."

Tariq grinned broadly- he had cut it down at lot since Harry had last seen him. Harry thought though that it made him look older. Or maybe, like Dimitri said, it was just the job.

He turned pleasantly to Erin and extended his hand once again, "You must be Erin Watts- they tell me you have been running Section D. Good to meet you."

Erin looked like it was anything but good, but she shook his hand anyway out of politeness. To her, after two months of absence, he had just swanned on to the grid again, expecting to own and be in charge of everything. She'd give him a good run for his money, she promised herself. "That's right. And I shall be staying on as Section Leader."

"So I hear." Harry replied, his smile lingering, reserving judgement on this woman for now. Although she had a cold exterior there was something else quite different in her eyes. He looked up at his office, and raised his eyebrows. "I see you've made yourself comfortable." He said dryly.

For one moment, Erin looked abashed, but she quickly recovered herself, and said coldly, "Yes. I was going to clear it out later, but first we have a briefing-"

"Calum Reed." Calum interjected, slouching over and shaking Harry's hand. "Your new technical genius."

Harry nodded his greeting before saying, "And modest too, by the looks of things."

It was Calum's turn to look abashed before he took it in his stride and grinned.

"Is Beth here, or did she get so overexcited to see me that she had to go outside for some fresh air." Harry joked feebly, but with a sinking feeling that he was about to receive some more bad news.

"Elizabeth Bailey left." Erin said sharply. "To pursue new horizons."

"Yeah," Dimitri said, narrowing his eyes. "Because you sacked her."

Harry frowned between them- he had never really experienced any dislike between colleagues. It was the nature of the job that people just gelled. Yet now, he had Dimitri, who from his experience was usually relatively calm, in a scuffle with Erin.

"She messed up- no second chances." Erin was replying stiffly.

Harry's eyes rested on Ruth again, who sat quietly and listening gravely to her colleagues arguing. She was now looking anywhere but at him, as if hoping a hole would suddenly appear and swallow her up. During the spare seconds whilst his two younger subordinates argued, he took the time to look Ruth over. He did not like what he saw. She looked deathly pale, and her hands seemed to be shaking slightly. One of them was gripping the table, as if in a desperate attempt to stop herself from collapsing sideways off her chair. Her once bright, enthusiastic blue eyes were sad, and in her state of misery, they looked almost grey. Harry felt his heart break.

"That's it." He growled. "I haven't been temporarily reinstated to sit around here listening to you two bickering." He indicated to Dimitri and Erin. Erin looked shocked- she was not used to people talking to her like that now. She had experienced a taste of power over the last two months, and yet, in those few words, Harry Pearce had left her feeling about six inches tall.

The arguing had stopped instantaneously and all that followed was complete silence. Ruth's head had shot up at his words; her eyes wide with something he thought rather looked like fear. He did not dare feed his vanity the idea that she was afraid for him. Dimitri and Tariq also looked back at him, stunned.

"You're only back temporarily?" Dimitri asked, his grin now a million miles away.

"Yes," Harry confirmed, and he looked once again at Ruth. "As Ruth so adequately put it- I'm here because of Max Witt's murder."

"So it _was _murder then?" Dimitri confirmed, with a knowing look at Ruth.

"Yes." Harry said. "But it goes a lot deeper than that." He glanced at Erin, and smiled grimly. "If you'd like to brief us all Miss Watts, and I'll fill in any possible gaps."

Erin glared at him, but her eyes looked a little flustered. "Right." She turned on her heel, and marched towards the meeting room, Tariq and Calum in her wake. Harry had been planning on saying something…anything to Ruth, but as he turned, he saw her get slowly and noticeably unsteadily to her feet. He watched as Dimitri grabbed hold of her arm, ensuring she was alright before he followed his other colleagues. Ruth followed close behind, avoiding Harry's concerned gaze as she passed. He was left to bring up the rear.

* * *

><p>"Max Witt." Erin stated. "An MI5 hero and legend in his day. During the cold war-"<p>

"He saved many lives with the intelligence he gathered." Harry finished. "Including mine."

"Yes," Erin said politely. "He trained at Sandhurst before joining the army, which he left with honours to join MI6."

"Should have stayed at Sandhurst." Calum muttered. Harry glanced at the younger man slouched in his chair- he was already building up a somewhat unfavourable view of his new colleagues.

Erin targeted the remote at the screen in front of them and an image of the late Max Wit appeared before them. He had the appearance that once upon a time, he might have been very handsome- yet the years, and the number of years with the army seemed to have put stop to this. A second image joined the other on the screen, of Witt as a younger man, in his training at Sandhurst. Harry now noticed how much the security services had weighed the man down- before his smooth, boyish skin had been neat and tanned, whilst in the older version, his skin had a sallow, sickly pallor about it. His eyes, once a bright blue, had distinctly converted in to a blue-grey colour. Although it might just have been the effect of aging, Witt's hair had turned a light grey colour, yet seemed to have been becoming white around the time of his death. His hands and face contained scars from long ago, so that they looked like mere indentations on the skin, but Harry remembered a time when he had watched Max receive some of those scars, or at least they had still been fresh. Harry sneaked glance at Ruth who was sitting opposite him, and saw that she had noticed how different the man had been after his journey through MI5 and 6. The sallow skin, the grey eyes, and the sickly demeanour were all too familiar to look at in her at that moment. For Ruth, it was almost like holding up a mirror to herself- the Max Witt on the left was smiling and excited about the possibilities to come, and the one on the left had clearly experienced them... and had not liked them. She compared herself in her mind's eye, with the young, enthusiastic Ruth, who had just left GCHQ. It was only nine years ago- yet it seemed like thirty. Harry watched as anxiety visibly rose up in Ruth again, and as much as he desperately wanted to, knew he could do nothing to help her.

"Witt served as an intelligence officer in many places during the Cold War, most famously in Berlin." Erin was saying, and Harry turned his attention back to the briefing at hand.

"I served with Max in Berlin in the Cold War," Harry explained, and all heads turned to look at him. "He was a good officer, but ambitious and brutal- he would do anything to do his job and follow orders, even if it meant completing tasks via rather…unorthodox methods." The team waited for him to expand but he did not. Ruth was almost glad of this. "Part of his job was to ensure no intelligence fell into the hands of the enemy and if it did, put a stop to it at any cost. But he was a good officer." He said firmly. He then turned to them all and said in a low voice. "He contacted me via protocols hours before his death, asking me to meet him. But he never showed."

"So what did he want to meet you for?" Dimitri asked. "I assume it wasn't a cup of tea and a cosy chat about old times."

"No- but he left a message at an old rendezvous point that was used in the days before the Cold War." Harry said, unzipping the briefcase that had never left his hand since he had arrived. Slowly he pulled out a rather crumpled A5 document and passed it to Erin, who was seated on his left. She stared at the page for a few seconds taking the words in and frowned.

"An assassination attempt at the Russian ball tomorrow?" she said sharply, and passed the paper to Calum. "Where all these major powers are. Anything controversial and any hope of mending our rather sorry relations with Russia go out the window."

Ruth stared at Harry, who she noticed for the first time since arriving, was avoiding her eyes, and was instead staring intently at the screen. She had known Harry long enough to know when something was not the whole story. This was not an assassination attempt aimed at the ball itself, but for one specific person.

"Harry," she said, so quietly he found himself forced to look at her, in spite of his resolve. "There's something else isn't there?"

The team all turned to look at Harry and Ruth; Dimitri smiling to himself at how well Ruth seemed to know the man opposite her by now. Something kept nagging at the back of his mind that all was not right between his two colleagues. All this time he had thought Ruth was just missing Harry, but now he was beginning to rewrite all these thoughts completely.

Harry was smiling genially at Ruth, he too knowing Ruth knew him far too well by now to withhold anything from her, yet that made some things he knew were still to come all the more worse.

"You're right." He nodded, and turned to pull out some more documents from his briefcase. This time he passed them across the table to Ruth, although she could tell there was something reserved in his expression, almost as if he was nervous about the documents being read. Their hands brushed briefly against each other but neither made any show that it meant anything, even though both felt a similar spark. Ruth looked down and began to read.

"Ilya Gavrik?" she read. "He was your Russian...well...opposite in Berlin." Harry did not ask how she knew this, knowing her all too well. "Yes. He and his wife, Elena arrived in London two days ago, to attend the ball. He is the new Russian representative, and Max was convinced he and Elena were the targets for this assassination. The Home Secretary has assigned me back here temporarily, to ensure their safety during their stay."

Ruth was without a doubt now that Harry definitely was not meeting her eyes.

"So basically, we have to protect the Russian ambassador in order to maintain peace between nations." Calum summarised.

"Yes." Harry nodded.

"How hard could it be?" Calum muttered.

"The Home Secretary wishes all staff on hand to attend."

"Including me, Calum and Ruth?" Tariq asked, surprised.

"Ruth, yes." Erin interrupted. "But Tariq and Calum-I want you to be there but stay behind the scenes. I expect you can be of more use there." He and Calum exchanged looks- Calum looked distinctly grumpy at this.

"Dimitri," she continued briskly. "You and I are to start planning, Tariq and Calum- security checks, and Ruth- I want you to delve further into Max Witt and the Gavriks'- we need to know as much as possible."

* * *

><p><em>Harry watched Ruth as she reached up, took out some mugs from the cupboard, and placed them on the sideboard. She then fished a tea bag out of the ceramic pot on the shelf and flicked the kettle on. It was not sweet tea, but it made him smile nonetheless. It reminded him of old times. There was another awkward silence as they tried to figure out what to say to one another. Ruth twisted her hands together awkwardly, and Harry, somewhat distractedly, stilled them with his. She seemed to jump a little at his sudden movement and her head shot up automatically to look into his eyes. They were soft and gentle, yet she could still see all the hurt in them. Pain and guilt continued to bubble away inside her. <em>

"_Ruth- about today." _

"_I'm sorry." Ruth said quickly, closing her eyes looking and bringing her head down to stare at her tiled floor._

_Harry had opened his mouth to explain himself further, but had stopped mid-breath. He had not been expecting anything of the kind from Ruth:_

"_What?" he said frowning, very confused. "Sorry for what?" _

"_What I said." She said in a heartbreakingly quiet voice; she sounded breathy- a tell-tale sign she was only just holding back the tears. "After everything you'd done for me. You saved my life, and all I could be was cold and cruel, yet again." _

"_Cruel…?" Harry muttered incredulously. He held her hands tighter and pulled her slowly towards him, so that their bodies were almost touching; her head mere millimetres away from his chest. "Ruth look at me." He said so gently, she could feel the tears threatening to come on again. She forced herself to grit her teeth to stop the overwhelming emotions. She could not bring herself to look at him; afraid of the hurt and blame she would see there yet again. "Ruth."_

_Slowly, ever so slowly, like a wild animal in the process of being tamed, Ruth lifted her head and looked at him. "Ruth, you could never be cruel." Harry said softly but firmly. "You couldn't." he repeated insistently as Ruth shook her head disbelievingly. Harry disengaged his right hand from hers and stroked her pale cheek lovingly, desperate to comfort her; anxious for her to realise his feelings for her. Instinctively, Ruth would have broken the connection then, but she found she could not- for in those dazzling hazel eyes, she no longer saw that consistent hurt and blame-only love and adoration. The expression was that of the one he had worn before she left on the dreaded boat to Cyprus…before both she and her life had changed. For a few seconds they just stood staring contentedly into the other's eyes._

_The kettle could be heard suddenly coming to boil and it clicked of, signifying the end of their rare moment. Harry did not want to let her go, but Ruth pulled away slightly. She indicated the kettle with her head, as she realised Harry was still clinging to her hands. Another hesitation followed before Harry released her hands gently. She promptly turned away from him, and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, hoping he would not notice. He did, but knew better than to say anything._

_He silently watched her as she turned to the kettle and lifted it to pour the boiling water, whilst he tried to memorise the feel of her soft hands in his. He cleared his throat, realising that the time had come for him to actually tell her what he had come to say. _

**And there's more to come almost immediatly. Hope you like a mix of angst and fluff, before the real drama starts to appear ;)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Just a short one to keep you going. A little more on what happened two months ago with Harry and Ruth :)**

_Harry opened his mouth to talk to Ruth, but he could not quite find the words he wanted to say. As if she instinctively knew of his discomfort, she paused and then put the kettle down, without having actually poured any water. _

"_You didn't just come here to see if I was alright did you?" she said, with a ghost of a smile, turning to him, but not quite meeting his eyes. _

_Harry mirrored the faint smile, "No." _

_Ruth breathed in and out heavily, sure now that he had decided to end it. She almost laughed inwardly at that- 'end it'. When she said that, it made it sound almost as if she and Harry had had something to end. Her breathing then seemed to accelerate in short, shaky breaths, and she made to turn round again. Harry who had noticed this change, and worked out what she had been thinking within a few seconds, caught her hands again as she made to turn round. _

"_Ruth, it's not about that. I wouldn't do that to you." He said firmly, squeezing her hands. She stared at him for a couple of seconds, as if trying to process that what he had just said was real. Harry then felt relief as she squeezed back, and he smiled at her. _

"_But," he said gently. "I think we might need that cup of tea." He indicated the mugs on the sideboard. Ruth nodded and busied herself by picking up the kettle, and beginning to pour. She indicated to him that he should continue. _

"_It's about Albany." Harry said after a moment. He noticed Ruth had tensed whilst pouring, so he continued quickly. "It wasn't a real genetic weapon. It was flimsy, and never worked. Nothing more than a prototype." _

_She stopped and looked at him briefly, and his eyes told her that he was telling the truth. _

"_I wasn't about to lose you for something that didn't work Ruth." He said definitely. _

_Ruth stared at him, and asked very quietly, "And if it had been active?" _

_Harry considered this, "I honestly don't know." _

"_Harry…"_

"_I can't explain what I was thinking today," he said slightly irritably, but softened when he noticed Ruth start and subconsciously take a step back. "Eight years ago- there would have been no question about it. For my country's sake, I would not have taken that risk. But now-"_

"_Why? After everything I've done to y-"_

"_You've done nothing." Harry said firmly, looking in to her eyes. "That's the point, Ruth. You were completely innocent- how could I sacrifice you when you had absolutely nothing to do with it?" _

_Ruth turned back to the kettle and began to pour again, but her hands were noticeably shaking, and water was splattering everywhere. _

"_So you saved me because I was innocent?" she said, her voice tight._

_Harry, not quite sure what she was getting at nodded, even though she could not see his face._

"_Partly. And you're the best analyst I've ever had." _

_Ruth still did not turn round, but the kettle was gradually becoming out of control. _

"_I had Towers on the phone a couple of hours ago." He added, failing to notice her shaking hands. "He told me I was to prepare for life outside MI5. I reckon that either gives me tomorrow or when I left Thames House tonight, it was the last time I shall set foot there again. When you get to my level, and you're dismissed, you don't even get to clear out your own desk." He sighed heavily, and closed his eyes, wanting to avoid her expression at his next words. They were already almost too painful to utter. "So that means I probably won't see you for a long time. If not ever again."_

_Ruth now entirely lost control of the kettle, and boiling water spilled all over right hand. She let out a cry, and dropped the kettle automatically on to the sideboard, where it continued to drip on to the floor. _

"_Ruth!" Harry cried, leaping forwards and grabbing her hand. He pulled her towards the sink and held her hand under the flowing cold water tap. Her hand had already gone red, and under the tap, he could see it turning white as the skin started to blister. He was about to demand what she thought she had been doing when he noticed the tears leak from the corners of her eyes, and join the water flowing down the sink. Her face was screwed up in pain, but he knew it was not just from the burn._

_Ruth had been letting the tears slip silently down her face, as she had been turned away from him. At first it was because of the realisation he considered her innocent, like a normal citizen, and that he only cared about her because she was good at her job. But then, something much worse- the thought of never seeing him again gripped her. The thought that he would move on without her, because she had reduced what they had to mere colleagues, as he had stated. Then the weight of everything that had happened throughout the day fell on her again. And it had all got too much. She felt numb again, and only felt the boiling water on her hand when she looked down and saw it. Now, as Harry held her hand under the tap, she could not hold it in anymore, and she felt hot tears spill and her shoulders began to shake with the sheer weight of it all._

_Harry kept one arm holding her hand under the tap but used his other arm to engulf her in a hug. He tenderly planted a kiss on her forehead, and rocked her gently, whilst whispering words of comfort. He now realised how his words must have sounded to her, and how the tail end of his speech had been said in such a matter of fact way. Harry realised he did not need her to say those three words, as he watched her sob against him. He could interpret her feelings perfectly there and now. _

_After a few minutes, Ruth began to calm down and her wracking sobs converted into spasmodic hiccoughs. Harry withdrew her blistered hand from the cold tap and looked round absently for any sign of a first aid kit. He found one hanging conveniently just below the cutlery draw, he sat her down opposite him, and began to gently wrap a bandage around her sores. He did most of it in silence, with Ruth watching him, her eyes downcast, and embarrassed. _

"_I'm sorry." He said softly. "I could have said things a bit better than that." _

"_But you're going to leave?" Ruth said hoarsely, sniffing. _

"_Probably." Harry said. "I have too many skeletons in my closet Ruth; I've made too many mistakes." He said sadly. "Once people find that out, the punishment for giving Albany away will seem like a slapped wrist." _

_Ruth stared tearfully at him, and he smiled grimly and reached up to gently wipe them away. "Don't cry anymore." He whispered soothingly. "It's going to be alright." _

_Both he and Ruth knew vague murmurs of comfort would be of no use, but he had to say something to try and ease her worries. He had sensed Ruth had been on the cusp of a breakdown for months, and could not bear to watch it escalate anymore. He finished off bandaging her hand, and busied himself putting the remnants of the kit away. _

"_Harry," she said suddenly, but with her head bowed, as if fearing his answer. "Is that really why you gave away Albany? Because I'm good at my job?" _

_Harry paused, wondering incredulously to himself if this was what he had really said, "You __**know **__that's not the only reason." He said softly. Ruth, now feeling incredibly embarrassed at how she had just reacted, could feel her cheeks burning, and she made to get up and move to clear up the mess on the sideboard. But Harry suddenly planted his hands on her upper arms, keeping her rooted to the wooden chair. Her heart skipped a beat as she felt him move his hands upwards to stroke her still damp cheeks. It then began to pound as Harry leaned in and kissed her so beautifully and tenderly on the lips, she thought briefly it must all have been a dream. But then he was pressing against her lips with more pressure, his teeth tugging lightly on the bottom of her lip, and in a wave of overwhelming emotion she felt everything they had been trying to say to each other for years. Ruth responded eagerly back, now realising this was her chance to let him know what he meant to her- that she was no longer angry; that she loved him, and despite everything he had done, always had. Harry felt everything from her in that moment and the tentative, chaste, gentle kisses became increasingly frantic and passionate. Harry, for a brief moment, wondered whether he was doing the right thing responding to her in this way, after she had had such an emotional rollercoaster of a day. This Ruth was so different to the woman he had known over the past months-what if these were just the aftershocks of the day taking their toll? What if he made everything worse for her? He could not bear for her to think he had taken advantage of her. _

_But, here she was, kissing him desperately, her hands roaming, finally revealing who she really was. Now, she was not worried about the future, about the past with George, about what everyone else on the Grid thought. Now they were finally expressing their feelings, and he did not want it to ever stop. Suddenly pulling away from his embrace, Ruth looked up at him, wide-eyed and flushed, but apparently happy and desiring. He sensed the silent question in her eyes, and he too signified with his eyes to check if she was really comfortable with everything going so quickly. She considered this and nodded slowly. Harry thought she looked utterly adorable in that moment. Gently, he took her uninjured hand, and allowed her to lead the way upstairs. _

**:0 What happens next?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Firstly, I was devastated at the end of episode 2. How about anyone else? Here is another chapter. I hope people are liking this story. I've taken things from the actual series and twisted them, so it will eventually split away from the real story. Sorry if people think I'm being too mean to Ruth or Harry, or if its too angsty. But everyone loves a good bit of angst don't they? ;) Thank you to all of those who have reviewed so far! Please Review :)**

Ruth still felt exhausted, and had decided she had had enough surprises for one day- she had not been expecting Harry's return- none of them had. Granted, as her boss, it was great having Harry back. There was nothing wrong with Erin, but Harry being there was just so familiar and right. She could actually feel a small smile creep on to her face, as she saw him step into his office again, turfing Erin's stack of papers to one side of the desk in a typical Harry-ish fashion. Her smile widened as she saw him huff incoherently because his chair was not adjusted to the position he was used to. However, Harry decided to look up at that moment and for the first time since his arrival, their eyes truly met. Harry saw that same hurt and exhaustion, but also, dare he believe it, a hint of love- that same adoration he had glimpsed that night, two months ago. Yet everything had changed since then. Both the Home Secretary and the inquiry had made it perfectly clear that any kind of a relationship other than work between them, would rebound consequences not only on him, but her as well. He had to protect her from that. She had gone through enough without losing her job as well. And now, on top of it all, he had to try and protect her from…well…his past; from stumbling upon what he had done. Reluctantly, he looked away from her, his heart virtually breaking at the hurt in her expression as he did so.

Ruth felt her emotions welling up, but bit them back down again. Of course, she should have expected this. By rights, she should have been the one blocking him out- being angry with him. Yet, she did not have the heart, or the energy to. Humiliated, Ruth looked away from Harry, who was presently glancing through a mound of unsorted paperwork, and began to start completing her own research. At that moment, Dimitri strode over to her from the opposite end of the grid- he had been constantly observing the behaviour of his two colleagues since Harry's arrival, and he knew all was not well between them. He moved to sit next to Ruth, at his own desk. She did not look up.

"Look, I know it's none of my business, but is everything ok with you and Harry? You both seem a bit…distanced."

"You're right." Ruth said levelly, without looking up.

"What?"

"It is none of your business." She said quietly, apparently reading, but her eyes had been focused on the same paragraph for the last minute or so. Dimitri held his hands up in defeat and occupied himself with his own work.

* * *

><p>It had already gone half past 10 when Ruth finally glanced up from her work and noticed virtually everyone had gone home. She seemed to stay late a lot these days, not that she hadn't done so previously in the past, but even more so of late. Perhaps she had nothing better to do. By rights, what with feeling so drained recently, she should have been the first off the grid at nine when most people trooped through the pods. She had waved Dimitri and Calum off, as they left to visit The George for a pint or two before they went home. Tariq stayed a little longer, mainly to keep her company, which she appreciated, but eventually when his eyes started drooping at his computer terminal, she ordered him to go home and sleep- which he did. Ruth smiled. She could not remember the concept of sleep. It did not matter how tired she was, she dared not fall asleep anymore; afraid of the nightmares, and the constant worry that washed over her. Erin had left on the dot as well, determined to get home in order to read her daughter a story before she went to bed. Ruth found herself smiling at the domesticity of her situation outside work. She found herself feeling envious of her colleague; she sometimes thought miserably that she would never make as good a mother as Erin.<p>

Ruth sighed, and continued reading her reports. They were terrifying stuff. She had never been so naïve as the think the Cold War had been a picnic, but some of the things officers had had to do in order to not let the side down, had been horrendous. After reading all about the ferocious Ilya Gavrik, she could not blame Harry for the look of distaste that had swept across his face as he mentioned the man's name, or for his tactics against the Russians in Berlin. Ruth frowned, picking up a small note she had found amidst the various documents- it had the slightest reference to what she gathered as an assets code name- Tourmaline. Yet there was no other reference to it anywhere else.

Rubbing her eyes, and deciding she should go home anyway, she cleared her files neatly and hauled herself to her feet; slipping on her jacket. As she did so, she noticed literally everyone else had gone, except one person. With a jolt, she realised Harry was still sitting in his office, a flask of whisky in hand, as his decanter had been removed when Erin had moved in. He was bent over paperwork too, and she briefly wondered if she should try and talk to him. Perhaps he could try and shed some light on the subject of Tourmaline. And she had missed him; even after everything her heart missed him terribly. Struggling with her decision, she eventually decided to go for it, and walked carefully towards his office, feeling a little nauseous again. Ruth hesitated before knocking tentatively on his door, and without waiting for a reply, entered. Harry glanced up at her, before returning to his paperwork. He had promised himself not to get involved and to do that, he could not look at her at the moment.

"Getting better." He said lightly. "But now you've mastered the knock, do you think you could manage to wait for an answer before walking in?"

Ruth ducked her head, which Harry sensed, and immediately felt guilty. His heart went out to her, and in spite of himself, he said, "How are you?"

"I'm fine." Ruth said automatically, closing her eyes at the abruptness of her comment. They both knew it was a lie. "How are you?"

"I'm fine as well." Harry said politely, but still keeping his eyes fixed on his paperwork. "The tribunal went okay."

"Good to hear it." Ruth said truthfully, but with a tint of bitterness in her voice. "You couldn't have called or written I suppose. You were too busy." They both knew it was a reproachful remark.

"Can I do something for you Ruth?" Harry asked quickly, finally lifting his eyes to hers.

'You could rewind the last two months' she thought bitterly before pulling out the note, after a beat and saying, "I came across this when I was digging up information on Ilya and Elena Gavrik." She passed him the note. "It contains what I assume to be an asset name, but there's no reference of it anywhere else."

"Tourmaline" Harry read, lowering his eyes once again.

Ruth noticed. "You know who the asset is. You know who Tourmaline is don't you?"

Harry closed his eyes. "Look Ruth, just…" he trailed off, not really knowing what to say after that.

"Just what Harry?" she asked, becoming quickly angry at his behaviour towards her. "Ignore it? Overlook it? I've done enough of that recently Harry! And so have you!"

Harry sighed. He plan to not react towards her emotionally was not going at all well. "I know." He said quietly.

"So who is Tourmaline?" Ruth repeated again, though her voice was shaking with emotion.

"Tourmaline is…"he sighed, looking at Ruth. "Is Elena Gavrik."

Ruth paused for a moment, shocked. "You got Gavrik's wife to be a British asset?" she said. It was a statement, not a question. "You turned Gavrik's wife?"

Harry dropped his head back to his work.

"What if Gavrik had found out?" she demanded, her voice growing louder, drawing strength from her anger, despite her fragile state. "She would have been killed for sure. All those things he did in the Cold War, I bet he wouldn't even have stopped to think about killing his own wife, if he thought she was a threat to him and the country."

"I wouldn't have let that happen." Harry said, his voice now getting louder and angrier too.

There was silence for a moment, as Ruth took in what Harry had just said, and indeed how he had said it. His eyes were distinctly avoiding hers- he looked almost ashamed. "But it doesn't stop there does it?" she continued quietly. "It never bloody stops there with you, does it Harry? She wasn't just an asset was she?" she looked at him, as he suddenly raised his head in alarm at the horror in her voice. "There was something between you." Again, a statement, not a question.

"Ruth-"

"You had an affair with Elena Gavrik!" she cried.

"It was a difficult time!" Harry yelled back. "Everyone was feeling under pressure, and there was…a spark."

"A spark?" Ruth repeated incredulously.

Harry said nothing to this, only stood and met Ruth round the front off his desk. He tried to grab hold of her, but she backed away from his grasp, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Harry, sleeping with the wife of a powerful Russian spy during the Cold War…that's more than a bloody spark!" Ruth said. She could feel the tears threatening to come, and she bit them back furiously. "It could have ruined your life…yet alone your career."

"I burnt her as soon as possible." Harry said, suddenly realising what he had just said, and internally punched himself.

"You used her and burnt her?" Ruth cried.

"No," Harry said. "She was the best Russian asset British Intelligence had, but we burnt her had the end of the Cold War to protect her. She is or at least she's supposed to be happy and safe now."

"Aren't you the hero." Ruth said sarcastically.

"I wasn't her first point of contact." Harry said, realising he was digging himself an even bigger hole. "Jim Coaver was."

"Your American colleague during Berlin." Ruth muttered, in spite of her anger. She remembered his names from the files from earlier on.

"Ruth," Harry said tentatively. "I'm asking you now not to tell anyone about her involvement for now." Her head shot upwards towards him suddenly, shocked. "For Elena's sake. Until I can talk to her at the ball tomorrow. If Ilya finds out in some way or another that she was a Western Spy, she's as good as dead."

"You can't hide this Harry." She said quietly, but her resolve was getting weaker and her anger dissipating as she looked into those soft hazel eyes. She saw only desperation. He needed her help, and she had never been able to deny him that.

"Please Ruth." He repeated gently.

Ruth studied him for a second before nodding curtly. Harry smiled gratefully and approached her again, but Ruth pushed him away and headed for the door with a small, "Don't." Harry watched, heartbroken , as Ruth pushed the door open once again, strode across the grid, picked up her belongings and journeyed out of the pods. He wondered if he had pushed too far.

* * *

><p>After an afternoon's preparation, and with Tariq and Calum safely behind the scenes at their computer terminals; away from the main ball, Erin and Dimitri strode through the ballroom arm in arm, and rather enjoying the opportunity at being undercover. Even Erin had to admit, she had missed that. Harry stepped through the threshold twenty minutes later, with Ruth in tow. He was growing increasingly worried about her- that morning she had stumbled onto the grid, quite literally, looking even paler and increasingly exhausted. He knew the signs of a sleepless night better than anyone else on the grid, and had avoided talking to her all day, aware that their conversation yesterday had not helped. What was more, he was still determined to follow through his resolve, and not get involved with her anymore. Each time he tried to, she ended up getting more and more hurt. But this evening they had to put all that aside and work together, which they were doing quite satisfactorily. Ruth took off her coat and handed it in at reception, staring at the various marble statues all over the ball- the décor was vey Russian indeed. Had she not been so preoccupied, she might have even enjoyed looking round at the various exhibits and archaeology of the building more, but there was work to be done.<p>

Entering the ballroom, she noticed the other guests were all wearing formal attire- the men in dinner jackets or tuxedos and the women in posh satin dress attire. Ruth felt a scarlet tinge flood through her cheeks as she looked down at her own rather frumpy, Ruth-ish clothes. A long dark skirt with a blazer and matching top was not the epitome of beauty in the room at that moment, she thought, and she hovered in the doorway. As if sensing these insecurities, Harry stopped halfway through the door, and walked back towards her. He placed a firm hand behind her back, and guided her along with him, "Come on." He said softly. Then cursing himself for not maintaining his resolve, he removed the hand quickly. Ruth, who had been comforted by his touch, despite her anger from last night, felt rather bereft without him.

"Alpha one and two in positions." Tariq confirmed to the rest of the team, via his useful little communication gadgets. "Delta one and two, are you still there?"

"Loud and clear." Dimitri said, taking two glasses from a nearby tray and giving one to Erin, who smiled in response. Her smile suddenly froze when she caught sight of the Gavriks' strolling in to the room, also arm in arm. They appeared to have fixed smiles on their faces- she hated that in people.

"Alpha one and two- targets sighted." She said quietly, as more guests passed them.

"Got that." Harry said, and manoeuvred himself and Ruth though the crowd towards the Gavriks'.

Ruth watched Harry the whole time, and noticed how he stopped and breathed heavily every once in while, when he caught a glimpse of Elena. Ruth had seen the pictures, but now she understood what Harry had seen in her. She really was a beauty, even with aging. She had gorgeous long red hair which was crafted immaculately on top of her head. She hardly needed any make-up to disguise her face- it was already beautiful as it was. She had delicate pale skin, which contrasted greatly to Ruth's which was just pale and sickly from illness and exhaustion. Her beautiful appearance fitted perfectly with her flowing scarlet dress. As she noticed Harry's eyes feast upon the Russian beauty, Ruth wanted to disappear in to the floor and never be seen again. But she kept going, her work brain demanding that she did so.

Elena suddenly noticed Harry approaching her, and a small expression of surprise and wonder, crossed with memories from their passed washed over her face, before she straightened it out, and lightly touched her husbands arm.

"Ilya, someone you know?"

Ilya Gavrik, Ruth noticed was just as terrifying as he had been mentioned in the files, and as he looked in the photos. He had a cold, stony face, with deep greyish eyes which seemed to stare and single you out, as if he could automatically sense a traitor. She swallowed, but forced a smile as Ilya turned around at his wife's request.

"Sir Harry Pearce." He said in wonder, in his thick Russian accent, as they shook hands. "The great Harry Pearce here and now, shaking my hand.

Harry forced a smile, but only Ruth could tell this- Harry had an excellent acting ability- to anyone else they would have thought it was a genuine smile. "Ilya Gavrik."

"I hear you are sent to protect us this evening." Gavrik said silkily.

"Yes." Harry said equally as smoothly. "You knew about the threat."

Gavrik shrugged, and grinned, "Please Harry, do not insult my abilities."

"Of course not." Harry grinned. He turned to Elena. "This is your wife?"

Ruth thought Harry was acting superbly, but even so she watched out for signs of recognition from Gavrik. There were none.

"Yes," he was saying. "This is Elena." His grin widened. "But of course you would know that wouldn't you?" Harry's smile faltered. "All the intelligence you have in this country?"

Harry was back on form before anyone noticed, "You're not easily fooled eh?" he said. He took Elena's hand. "Nice to meet you."

Elena seemed to follow Harry's lead. "A pleasure, Mr Pearce."

Harry noticed Gavrik's eyes fall on Ruth, whom had so far said nothing. He did not like the way Ilya was narrowing his eyes at her, and he rushed to her aid at once, "This is Rachel." He said. "Rachel Booth." He said smoothly. "My partner."

Ruth had the sense not to look like this wasn't news to her. She also noticed Elena looked slightly as if her nose had been put out of joint, and for some reason Ruth could not help feeling slightly satisfied by that. Gavrik extended his hand and took hers, "Pleased to meet you." He said smoothly.

"You too." She smiled, although inside her stomach was churning; she hated the slimy way in which men like Gavrik acted. She had seen too many men of that type at University.

"I hear you have been in rather a tight spot lately, Harry." Gavrik said lightly, though Ruth could hear the slight leer in his voice.

"Yes." Harry said silkily, not rising to the bait. "But I've not been thrown out into the cold yet."

A passing waitress stopped by them, and Gavrik, Elena and Harry all lifted off glasses of wine. Ruth however, accepted a glass of fruit punch instead.

"Not a big drinker Rachel?" Gavrik commented, taking a generous swig from his glass.

Harry felt Ruth stiffen beside him, but she smiled all the same, "Not really, no."

It was true; Harry had never really seen Ruth consume alcohol, except on that one lone date, all those years ago.

Ruth was suddenly aware of harry and Elena gazing longingly at one another again, and despite the pang of jealousy against her heart, Ruth remembered she was there to do her job. Before Gavrik had time to notice the rekindled spark between the old lovers, Ruth turned to Elena and said, "Shall we leave these two to old memories and men talk?"

Thankfully, Elena caught on quickly, and she nodded, guiding Ruth over to the other side of the room. At that moment, Harry was very glad of bringing Ruth along.

Across the room, Elena and Ruth stood watching the two men deep in conversation for a moment, before Elena began to stare at Ruth, "So how long have you and Harry Pearce been together?"

Ruth faltered, but kept up appearances and smiled, ignoring the question.

"You see that clock over there?" she said pointing to the ancient, but grand clock high on the finely crafted wall. Elena frowned and nodded. "When it reaches 8 o'clock, Harry is going to meet you in the side corridor, away from the main gallery."

Elena, who was apparently an excellent spy, nodded, also smiling, pretending that Ruth was simply pointing out a piece of beautiful architecture. Elena stared at Ruth again, and smiled softly. "You work for Harry? You know about..."

Ruth nodded, taking another sip of her fruit juice, avoiding Elena's eyes. Although she was very softly spoken, Ruth thought there was a very hard edge to Elena. She did not like the smile that was slowly creeping on to her face.

"You are not his partner?"

Ruth wanted more than anything to confirm that she was; she fought with every little bit of her self-control to keep smiling.

"But he likes you- very much." Elena was saying softly. "I suppose you know what happened in Berlin?"

"Yes." Ruth could not help but snap at this. She forced her smile back on. "But it was a long time ago- lots of things have changed since then. You and Ilya are happily married. You have a son." She struggled to remember the name from the file and then followed with, "Sasha isn't it?"

Elena's smile was now suspiciously wide, "Yes."

"He is in the FSB isn't he?" Ruth asked; keen to keep the conversation away from Harry. They both watched the hands on the clock approach 8 o'clock. Harry had conveniently slipped away, whilst Dimitri was now conversing with Gavrik, Elena playing the part of a devoted wife very well; hanging on to his arm.

Elena moved away to slip out of the room, but found her path blocked by a large group of people, all laughing. She would be discovered if she tried to barge past them. Sighing, Ruth casually walked past the waitress who had provided her with drinks, and 'accidentally' knocked against her arm. The tray went flying the drinks and other refreshments went crashing down onto the floor. Through loud apologies, Ruth indicated to Elena to go, not that she needed a cue. She had already gone.

* * *

><p>Elena slipped through the corridor as quietly as possible, before coming face to face with the one and only Harry Pearce. He was disconnecting what looked like a miniature ear-piece. For a few seconds they just stared at each other, years of pent up desires and memories flashing through their heads. Harry noted Elena had barely changed over the years- she still had that same beautiful long red hair, and those same eyes. Eyes that you could never look away from. Elena stared at him in adoration, but Harry was determined not to act thus back.<p>

"You got away then." He commented needlessly.

"Yes." She said. Harry watched as she suddenly unclasped her clutch bag and brought out a few pieces of paper. He frowned.

"What are they?" he asked confusedly.

"Your messages." Elena said simply, as if it was obvious.

"Messages?" Harry said blankly.

Elena smiled, and began to walk up to Harry in that slow and graceful way, which Harry never been able to resist all those years ago. She stopped just short of his chest and looked at him again. "It's good to be working for you again Harry." She said softly.

Harry did a double take, "Working for me? What?" he said. He took hold of the notes, and stared at them. True enough, they all contained his codes, his numbers- even things he had told her during the war."

"This isn't poss..." he muttered. He looked back up at Elena. "I haven't reactivated you Elena. This isn't me."

Elena looked shocked but smiled after a pause, "You are joking Harry?"

Harry shook his head, "Elena I promised to protect you all those years ago. Why would I risk that, especially now?"

"But..." Elena said, shock all over her pretty face. "Then why are you here?"

"There's a possible assassination attempt on Ilya." He said. "We can't risk anything happening to either of you. It might risk the British-Russian negotiations."

Elena smiled, "Is that the only reason you want to protect me Harry?" Harry knew it wasn't but did not say anything.

"Harry, whoever they are I told them everything." She said quietly. "I am sorry. I told them things only we knew. They knew things only we knew. How is this possible?"

"I don't know." Harry said grimly, knowing things were ten times as worse as before. He looked at her levelly. "But I won't let anything happen to you or your family Elena, I promise."

Elena smiled softly, "I know you wouldn't." Without warning, she reached up and kissed him briefly on the cheek. She was just about to move to his lips when Harry pushed back, fighting for something to say.

"How is Sasha?" he asked quietly.

"You of course know he is FSB?" she asked. She smiled, perhaps a little bitterly. "Or at least your colleague knew. She loves you Harry." She commented.

Harry closed his eyes, not knowing what to say to such an unbelievably difficult sentence.

"Do you love her?" this was more direct than Elena's usual approach, and he could tell she was slightly jealous. He evaded the question.

"Does Sasha know?" he asked, remembering the sweet little boy from all those years ago. He smiled at the fact his son had joined the FSB.

"Know that you are his father?" Elena replied as Harry nodded. "No, he thinks Ilya is. I cannot take that away from him Harry. He adores his father."

Harry began to nod, crushed, but their conversation was interrupted by a loud crash just outside the door; perhaps an antique crashing to the floor, in a hurry for someone to get away.

"Damn!" Harry growled. If someone had been listening to their entire conversation, they were finished. They were both as good as dead. He ran towards the door, indicating to Elena to stay put. As he rounded a corner, the image he saw made his heart stop.

**What's Harry seen? Review and you'll find out xxx**


	7. Chapter 7

**Here's the next chapter. Thank you so much to the lovely people who reviewed! :) Once again, I'm sorry if it's so angsty, but it seems angst goes hand in hand with Harry and Ruth if ever there is to be fluff. I've imagined a little about Ruth's private life in this, because I've always imagined her relationships as quite short; perhaps resulting with her getting hurt. It would explain why she's always been so hesitant and shy around men. Please R&R!**

Ruth moved away from the waitress she had just knocked flying, still mumbling words of apology, and sat down heavily. The night had been long; as had the day, and all she wanted was her bed. Not that she could sleep though, she thought again bitterly. She glanced up at the clock and sighed. Harry and Elena had been gone almost ten minutes. People might start to notice soon. She looked up as another man sat heavily down at the table with her, draining his glass of wine. She was shocked to see it was none other than the Home Secretary. He smiled at her expression.

"Miss Evershed," he said. "Do not worry. I am not going to bite. I might be a bit clumsy sometimes but," he looked at her slyly. "But then again, after that performance, so are you."

Ruth blushed, "Yes Home Secretary," she said as confidently as she could. "I've never been particularly brilliant at standing steadily on my own two feet."

"But you are brilliant though." He said, pondering, taking in her reaction to this. She just looked confused.

"I'm sorry?"

"I read that report Harry provided the tribunal with. The report he wrote on you. It was very impressive stuff. He's done well to keep you in your position for as long as he has. Have you ever considered a promotion?"

Ruth paled, "Report? What report?"

The Home Secretary looked a little impatient, "Harry had to provide the tribunal with a report on you and your skills as an analyst, in order to prove his reasons for the Albany fiasco were simply for work purposes."

Ruth felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. There it was again. Their working relationship- it was always about work. She had been foolish to think he felt anything else, especially with Elena around. Harry had not even informed her of this report. He kept so many secrets to himself, it was getting to a point she did not know what to class as the truth or as a lie these days. She ducked her head, but the Home Secretary kept on speaking:

"But really, Miss Evershed. If you get tired of life at MI5. You never know there might be a position available elsewhere."

And with that, she watched him get to his feet, with a parting smile, and wander off to mingle with Ilya Gavrik, and other Ministers. Her nerves now over the edge, and not really having the patience with Harry and his motives anymore, Ruth decided that fifteen minutes had been long enough. She noticed Gavrik was getting a little on edge, as he could not find Elena. Putting down her glass, Ruth willed herself to get up, and slipped quietly and unnoticed from the room.

She manoeuvred herself over to their meeting point, barely taking any notice of the beautiful paintings and touches of colour along the galleries until she heard their familiar voices. They would just be in the next corridor, and she was about to interrupt when she caught a few words of what they were saying:

"How is Sasha?" he was asking quietly.

"You of course know he is FSB?" she asked in return. "Or at least your colleague knew. She loves you Harry." She commented. Ruth noticed the bitter tone of Elena's voice, and the lack of reply from Harry.

"Do you love her?"

Ruth felt her heart smash into a million pieces when Harry did not reply to this. It told her all she needed to know. She noted how the two were speaking so much more candidly with each other than herself and Harry usually did. She felt tears come to her eyes, but she brushed them away to listen to the next part:

"Does Sasha know?" he asked.

"Know that you are his father?" Elena replied.

Ruth's heart stopped dead. She did not think it would ever start again. Her breathing began suddenly became quite erratic; her eye sight quite hazy. Harry was Sasha's father. He had fathered a child with another woman, other than his wife, in Berlin. He had known this all along, and not bothered to tell her. She felt very sick and could not stop the tears now as they coursed silently down her cheeks. She reached up a hand to wipe them away, and she ended up crying noiselessly into her hand. Ruth began to back away slowly from them. She had to be clean of the two of them…of him. Right now, she was not sure if she could bear to look at him again. She felt her back come into contact with something cold and metallic, and she jumped as a large expensive white vase came crashing down behind her. She heard the voices stop, and hurried footsteps in her direction, and she turned to half walk, half run back down the corridor. She had barely got a few metres when Harry appeared round the corner, and saw who exactly had overheard them. He watched her flee the scene, horror written all over his face.

"Ruth!" he cried, but she broke into a run, now very glad she had not worn one of those long satin dresses. Her attire was very useful for running away. The rest of the team heard Harry's shout over Ruth's comms, and Erin turned away from the crowd briefly to ask:

"Everything alright Alpha Two? Is something wrong with Alpha One?"

Tears flowed freely down Ruth's cheeks as she shut herself in one of the many bathrooms. Thankfully, Harry had not followed her. Knowing full well the team could hear her if she cried openly, she took a deep breath and said in what she hoped was a steady voice:

"Fine." She said. "I just…knocked something over."

"Clumsy." Calum was muttering over the comms, but she ignored him. She made to steady her breathing, and her nausea, before unlocking the cubicle door and checking her appearance. Once she was satisfied she did not look anything less than normal, she returned to the ballroom. She spotted Harry in the corner talking apparently animatedly to the Gavriks'. Ruth made her way over to the group, smiling forcefully at a concerned looking Dimitri, and she took her place next to Harry. Although his expression was unreadable, she could see Harry was desperate to explain- he communicated mainly with his eyes. Those eyes which she sometimes got so lost in. How many women had he lured into bed with those eyes?

"Ah Rachel," he said softly, handing her some wine, but she didn't drink it. "We were just wondering where you had got to. I hope everything was alright?"

He communicated through these words more than Ilya Gavrik knew.

"Fine." She smiled mechanically. "I was just admiring the paintings and got lost. It is a big house."

She continued to smile mechanically throughout the evening; she acted better than some theatre performers. She was sure no one, even Harry, knew that inside her heart had already splintered.

* * *

><p><em>Two months earlier…<em>

_Harry lay still entwined with Ruth against the spotless white pillows, no longer gasping for air, but breathless all the same; watching her sleeping form in adoration. Partly from her ordeal that day, and partly due to the effects of their intense lovemaking, she had passed out soon after her climax. He had been worried that he might have hurt her at first, but then he saw the contented smile plastered on her face, and it had warmed him all over. The idea that for once he had done something to make her truly smile like that made some of the guilt he felt towards her dissipate. Harry was sure that he had never felt more happy than in this moment. He smiled softly down at her, and brushed some stray hair that had fallen over her face during their coupling, back behind her ear. Harry did not think she had ever looked so beautiful and adorable as in that moment. He planted a gentle kiss on her forehead, before disconnecting himself from Ruth briefly, to draw the duvet over their bodies. She had been safely snuggled into his arms, head pressed against his chest, but he could feel her skin becoming slowly freezing under his touch, and knew his body could not provide her with enough warmth. Ruth stirred briefly as he wrapped the duvet carefully around her, before securing her in his embrace once again. _

_He smiled to himself as he recalled their earlier passion; the feel of him inside her; Ruth's gasps of pleasure as he rocked her tenderly against the pillows. Their coupling had been quite quick, each desperate to explore the others bodies. Their kisses had been eager and hungry, but similarly the experience had been beautiful and tender- an expression of utter and complete love on both sides. The sight of her beautifully pale skin, glimmering in the lamplight as he hovered above her; the sight of her eyes staring lovingly at him above her were scenes he never wanted to forget. He refused to succumb to sleep. He wanted to watch over her and memorise this moment forever; he vowed in that moment that he would never let anyone hurt this incredible woman he loved so much. Suddenly filled with an intense desire to protect and cherish, Harry found her injured hand and gently kissed the bandaged part and each one of her fingers. _

_Loving how peaceful Ruth seemed to be in sleep, as opposed to daily grid life, Harry moved to stroke her hair lovingly. He was cut short by the sudden shrill ringing of a phone. He cursed inwardly as he realised it was his phone, which was in his jacket pocket over the other side of the room, where it had been flung hours earlier. The noise disturbed Ruth, and she jumped violently from her place on Harry's chest, and began to wake. Harry stroked her hair and back gently:_

"_Ssh," he whispered softly, his phone still blaring away. "It's nothing. Go back to sleep sweetheart." _

_It was only when she drifted off peacefully again, this time her head resting on the pillow, and he had got up to retrieve his mobile, that he noted this endearment. He thought it fitted her perfectly. _

_Harry pulled on his boxers quickly, slid his shirt on for warmth, and wandered from the room, closing the bedroom door behind him. Only then did he answer the incessant ringing of his phone. _

"_Yes?"_

"_Harry," said a falsely cheery voice he knew only too well. "You take a long time to answer your phone." _

"_Well Home Secretary," Harry said irritated, looking up at the clock on the landing. "It is approaching three o'clock." _

"_After today's events," the Home Secretary replied. "I wouldn't have thought you would be getting much sleep in. If I were you, I'd be more worried."_

"_Oh I don't know." Harry reasoned, smiling slightly as he though of Ruth lying in bed a few rooms away. _

"_Consequences that will reflect not just on you, but on the members of your team as well." _

_Harry froze. "What?" _

"_Sad I know," The Home Secretary agreed, though he was clearly not in the least bit saddened by this information. "But true. Particularly Miss Evershed I shouldn't wonder." _

"_What?" Harry repeated, becoming quickly angry. "Home Secretary she's innocent in all of this. She's done nothing wrong. She didn't ask me to risk my career. It was my choice." _

"_I know that." Was the reply. "But unfortunately that's the way things work. The nature of your relationship with Ruth Evershed, which from what I've heard, has continued on and off for a number of years, will come to the head in the investigation. Considering she is not of your seniority-being just an analyst, I've had people letting slip to me over the last few hours that her career could be on the line too. They might try to pin some of this one her." _

_Harry felt his heart stop. His heart went out to the woman who was lying asleep, still contentedly, in the next room, blissfully aware of all of this. _

"_Look, after everything you've done for this country Harry, I thought it only fair to give you advanced warning." Towers continued. "I feel you deserve that much. But for God's sake, don't let anyone know I told you this." Harry nodded, forgetting the other man could not see him. "As such, I think it would be a good idea for both of you- you specifically- to avoid each other at all costs."_

_Harry closed his eyes, and took deep breaths. Towers still continued._

"_Do you hear me Harry? I'm going to do my best to help you in the best possible outcome, but it's not looking good. Don't make matters worse by pulling your trousers down with Miss Evershed."_

_Harry could feel his heart pounding, in realisation of what his actions over the last few hours have caused. The damage he may have done. It was so close to the reality of the situation, it was almost as if Towers had been reading his mind. _

"_You are, as I suspected suspended as of this morning, until further notice." Towers admitted, this time sounding a little regretful. "Like I said, I'll do all I can, but if I were you, I would sever contact with Miss Evershed- and the rest of musketeers for that matter." _

_Harry was still silent, trying to figure out what to do. He had made things a hundred time's worse tonight- after all Ruth had gone through, he couldn't let her lose her job as well. Suddenly, the resolve hit him, and he knew what he must do, although it crushed him just thinking about it. _

"_Thank you Home Secretary." He said quietly. _

"_I'll see you when I see you Harry." Towers replied, before ringing off. _

_Harry made a point of turning his phone off this time, and squeezed it painfully in between his clenched fingers. After trying for so long to approach this moment with Ruth; after they had finally arrived in the same place together with a prospect of a solid relationship- it was all going to be cruelly snatched away. Of course, Harry reasoned angrily, he could still continue to see Ruth behind Tower's and the tribunal's back, but in his profession, someone would soon notice. He could not risk that- for Ruth's sake. The poor girl had fought so hard to get where she was. It was not fair of him to do that. But then, he argued, what he was about to do was not fair either. In fact, it was downright cruel. He had to tell her what Towers had said, but as he turned and ventured back into the bedroom, he came face to face with her peaceful face, and knew in his heart he could not do it. _

_Leaving Ruth like this, in the middle of the night, was breaking his heart; the pain he knew he would cause her in the morning. But he convinced himself it would be more practical than waking her now and telling her, or telling her in the morning- for all he knew; men could be watching his house- maybe even Ruth's. He could not risk being seen in the morning, returning to his house. Harry thought angrily about how, despite everything that day, he had been so happy a few minutes earlier. Having Ruth sleeping happily in his arms; their legs and hearts entwined- it had been the best feeling in the world, and now it would all end. _

_He did not bother to wipe away the stray tears falling down his cheeks, until he noticed them drop and spread on to the pillow, as he came to sit back down on the bed. He then stood, got dressed and then returned too that same spot. All the while he watched this woman he loved- memorising every detail of her. Trying to etch into his memory the look of peace and contentment on Ruth's sleeping face. Harry pocketed his phone again, and noticing the duvet had somewhat slipped away from Ruth, revealing her nakedness, he drew it back up again and covered her warmly. For a few moments, he indulged himself time to stroke her hair back away from her face, and covered it with kisses. He placed one last tender kiss on her forehead, and got reluctantly to his feet. He knew the trial would not go well- he would probably have to go to prison, if not exile, or simply just leave MI5. All the same, he guessed he would never see her again; her heartbreaking words from earlier ringing true after all. _

"_I'm so sorry Ruth," he whispered after a beat, hovering above her. "I'm sorry for everything." He kept his eyes on her as he approached the doorway for the last time. "This is for the best. If we don't see each other again…you look after yourself...do you understand?" Drinking her in one last time, Harry turned round and closed the door quietly behind him "Be happy Ruth" he whispered. A few seconds later there was a slight bang as he disappeared through the front door. He did not tell her goodbye. He did not leave a note. For the next two months he would not call or write to her. He would not answer the door when she knocked. Harry shut her out. _

* * *

><p>"Well done everyone- we stopped it." Harry said smiling at each one of them in turn. "You did yourselves proud today. Go home and see if you can salvage some sleep."<p>

Harry's eyes lingered on Ruth, as she followed everyone in drawing back her chair, and walking tiredly from the room. Erin hurried through the pods quickly, eager to get home to her little girl, whilst Dimitri and Calum were attempting to persuade Tariq, on their way through the pods, to join them for a drink the following night. Ruth watched them all as they passed through the pods, and the last glimpses of them disappeared, before she sat down in her chair heavily. She felt exhausted and emotionally drained. Not only had she had to cope with another dark secret of Harry's past, but she had then joined him in taking down a heavily armed and experienced assassin. It had been the first time she had actually witnessed Harry perpetrate any sort of violence, although she had heard of many times before- the effects of which had been far worse. She remembered Ros briefly telling her of how Harry had executed Kachimov in revenge for Adam's death. This time thankfully, he had just punched the man in the face, which was enough to save the Gavriks' life.

Not having the energy to get up, gather her things and stand in line for the bus for an hour, Ruth put her arms on the desk and leant her head down on top of them. Sleeping on the grid seemed like a pretty good plan at that moment, and she closed her eyes appreciatively. Suddenly, she heard familiar footsteps striding out of the meeting room, in the direction of Harry's office. The footsteps stopped instantly, and she realised that Harry must have spotted her, because the next second he was marching towards her. Before she could send this message to her brain, to get up, she opened her eyes and saw that Harry was standing awkwardly above her.

"Ruth?" he said uncertainly, looking as if he wanted to get nearer, but did not have the courage to do so. "Are you alright?"

Ruth shrugged, and used her hands to lever herself into a proper sitting position, "Fine."

Harry knew he should have left then, but he just could not bring himself to do so, "No you're not."

"I wonder why that might be Harry." Ruth snapped before she could stop herself.

Harry sighed and nodded, "I know. I'm sorry you had to find out like that."

"Find out like that?" Ruth asked frowning at him. "Or you're sorry I found out?"

"Well in all honesty Ruth," Harry snapped, tired of always having to tread around her these days. "It was really none of your business."

Ruth paled to a deathly white, and her lip trembled, "It's none of my business that you got another woman pregnant and had a child with her?"

"A child I have rarely seen since." He snapped. "He is more Gavrik's son than mine."

"Are you sure about that?" Ruth demanded. "He's FSB. An Intelligence Officer just like you."

"And your point is?" Harry growled, getting dangerously close to her now. Ruth pushed herself off her chair and backed away from him alarmed. Harry suddenly noticed his breathing had got very heavy, and he seemed to be staring at her almost mutinously. He also took a step backwards in silent apology.

"Ruth, you're the only one I can trust." He said, attempting to start again. Ruth snorted but said nothing. "I need your help."

"Harry," she snorted. "You've got a team of willing, devoted young men and women who are your beckoning call night and day. You've got a whole team you can trust; I know they'd do pretty much anything to be the one you keep in confidence with." She looked defiantly at him, feeling anger rise up in her. She had a new found source of energy which she desperately wanted to use to propel an argument. "And they are not…how do you call it…emotionally forthright."

Harry's jaw clenched, but he forced himself to be strictly business. He pulled a few of the messages Elena had shown him from his jacket pocket and passed them to her. "Elena gave me these."

Ruth took the pieces of paper and stared at them. Her brow furrowed once again as her head snapped up to look at him again, "You're still running her? You're still running Elena after all these years!"

"No." Harry said quickly in an attempt to calm her. "No I'm not. I swear I have not seen Elena for thirty years. That's not me."

Ruth snorted, "If it's not you, who is it then?"

"I don't know," Harry replied honestly. "But I need your help to find out. Please Ruth; you're the only one who knows about what went on between me and her."

"So you want me to help you?" Ruth said incredulously. "Good old Ruth- she'll do anything for you, because she thinks the sun shines out of you."

"You know it's not like that."

"Come on Harry," she cried. "It's always been like that. I'll do anything for you- tell you everything. And you pretend to care. But in the meantime there are secrets you hide away…secrets that keep coming out one by one."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Harry demanded suddenly, rounding on her. "Your behaviour since I've come back has been quite frankly, nothing short of erratic!"

Ruth ignored him, "I bumped into Towers this evening." She said. "He told me all about a report you made."

Harry stopped.

"A report about me," Ruth continued, her voice trembling. "Apparently it was created so that the inquiry knew that there was nothing between us- not a glimpse of any feelings except a good working relationship." It was her turn to round on Harry, who was beginning to look extremely angry. "Is that true?"

Harry wanted to scream and shout that it was not case at all- tell her that he still loved her and that everything would be alright, but he could not. He had resolved to never put her in that danger.

"Yes." He said bitterly, but she mistook his tone for disgust towards her. "Yes I'm afraid that's all it can be."

Ruth backed away from him again, tears now flowing freely from her brimming eyes. Her breathing was also very heavy now, and she tried to control herself. She forced her shaking shoulders down, and drew herself up to her full height. She hoped she looked dignified, even though all her remaining hope had just disappeared. Her fragile heart had just been broken once and for all and she suddenly wondered what on earth the last eight years had been for.

"The Home Secretary," she said so quietly, Harry wanted to cry. "offered me a job. A promotion in fact. Away from here. I'll take it and get out of your hair once and for all."

Harry looked and felt suddenly furious. Realising that she was going to be ripped from him once again, he strode across the space between them and gripped her shoulders tightly with bruising effect. He had no idea how to respond to this, but he did not expect the words that came out of his mouth:

"Well bloody go then!" he growled. "Go and live a normal life!"

Although he was hurting her, Ruth wiped away her tears and said resolutely:

"Just like that?"

Harry said nothing.

"After everything we've been through, I just leave without a word?" she demanded. "What's it all been for Harry? These last eight years. What's it all been for? It's taken me this long to realise you only see me as a colleague. You saved my life because I was a valuable team member."

"Why not?" Harry snapped. "I thought that's what you wanted. You were the one who turned down my proposal. You were the one who reduced it to a working relationship." Ruth ignored him.

"You could have told me all this years ago, and saved a lot of…" whatever Ruth had been going to say, Harry did not hear the end of the sentence, for she pulled out of his tight grip with a fierce roar of, "Get off me!"

Harry released her at once, terrified at seeing such a reaction from Ruth. He knew he had just done completely the wrong thing but he could find no way to salvage the situation.

"I left this country…my friends…my life for you." Ruth was now half talking to herself. She reached down and picked up her coat and bag.

"I didn't ask you to." Harry replied angrily.

"No you didn't!" Ruth yelled. "But I did it because I love you!"

Harry stopped in shock and for a split second there was silence; he noted the use of the present tense in her words.

"Ruth-"

"But how wrong was I?" Ruth cried. "Because George…George died for nothing! Nico lost his father for nothing! I thought you were different from all the others-"

Ruth now began stumbling towards the pods, Harry in her wake.

"Others?" Harry asked confused.

"The boys at school, the men at University- they were only interested in one good shag. And once they had it, they left you alone...hurt and…humiliated. And then I met you…you were kind…and decent to me. And even when I turned your proposal down that day a Ros's funeral, I wasn't sure if I was doing the right thing. But it turns out you were just the same and I'm glad I did it now. "

"Oh Ruth-"

"You know the funny thing," Ruth said, suddenly turning round to meet his eyes. He could tell it was not going to be funny at all. "I could live with being just a colleague. If it helped you, and it made you happy, I could live with that." Harry stared at her, heart stopping. "And I could live with what you and Elena did, and your son." She continued, starting to tremble. "But I can't forgive you for that night. You knew how I felt about you, and you let me think you felt the same way about me. But it turns out you were just taking advantage of me instead. And the worst thing…the worst thing is that whilst we slept together you told me you loved me. And then the next morning I woke up to find you gone, without so much as a word. And you were just like all the rest after all"

"Ruth." Harry said, his resolve breaking completely. He would tell her everything; he reached for her but she backed away and stepped inside the pods. "It's not like that at all-"

Harry felt tears slipping down his own cheeks now, and he turned away from her to hide them.

"Yes it is." She murmured, and turned around again to exit through the pods.

Harry was left standing on his own at the edge of the pods, one thought pounding in his mind and heart. What had he done?

**Is it all over for Harry and Ruth? Please review! I love reviews! The drama element and plot will develop now.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you to you wonderful people who reviewed. I apologise again if you thought it was too angsty, and I am aware that with Series 10 going on we are all in need of some fluff! I think I now know where this story is heading, and there will be fluff, if anyone is interested, but there is more hurt to come first. Please read and review :)**

Two weeks slipped past with a word rarely exchanged between Harry and Ruth. When they had the necessity to speak over work, they would do it out in the open in front of the grid, and not in the private confines of Harry's office. Everyone noticed of course, but knew better than to say or do anything about it. Dimitri eventually, but reluctantly conceded that perhaps some things were just not meant to be.

Harry was astonished that Ruth was still there, considering the job offer from the Home Secretary, and especially after their row. Still, he did not question Ruth about it as it would mean talking to her. And in all honesty, he was pleased she was still there. Ruth had shown up the following morning after the argument, eyes red rimmed and exhausted but completely work focused as usual. He could not fault her on that front.

He watched as Calum appeared through the pods, a few purple bruises clearly visible on his face, but otherwise unharmed from his confrontation with the muggers a few hours ago. Harry was actually quite shocked he was not more concerned with the prospect that the contents of the suitcase that had been stolen, were in the hands of some potentially very dangerous people. Dimitri and Erin were huddled round Tariq as he fiddled expertly with the programme in front of them.

Only Ruth seemed to notice Calum's entrance. She turned in her seat and saw he actually looked quite crestfallen that he had been tackled like that; not at all his usual cocky self. She got to her feet and met him as he approached Erin and Dimitri.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly.

Calum looked quite surprised at her concern, and for a moment searched for any mock or reproach in her voice. When he was satisfied there was none, he eventually shrugged, "Fine."

At that moment, Harry eased himself from his chair and wandered out of his office; heading in their direction, "Calum, are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Calum repeated, now rather amused at how Harry and Ruth acted so much like a married couple at times, it was incredible they had not got together before now. He then called out to the grid at large, with a wide grin on his face, "To save some time people or in case I'm not making myself clear- I think I ought to let you all know that I am fine."

Dimitri shook his head and muttered to Tariq, "He most certainly is not fine in the head." Tariq grinned.

But, quite touched by their concern, particularly from Ruth, Calum winked and flashed half a gentle smile at her, before reverting to his normal self and strutting round to where Dimitri was standing.

"What did I tell you?" He muttered, out of Harry and Ruth's earshot. "Mama and Papa bear."

Dimitri shook his head, grinning, "Yeah well stop playing cupid for the time being and help us with getting the suitcase back. The suitcase you lost don't forget."

"First off, pretty boy, I didn't lose it. And how was I supposed to know what was going to happen," Calum shrugged, maddeningly laid back now. "And more to the point, how did the muggers know we were running that exercise today."

Dimitri, Erin and Tariq all turned round to stare at Calum. "He's got a point." Erin admitted.

They all knew it was just a bit of a long shot to put the theft of the laptop down to a casual, coincidental mugging at the hands of amateurs. Whoever had executed or ordered the mission had known what they were doing; they had known the operation was running today- they must have had a tip off. They all automatically stared around the grid- if that was the case, Section D might have a mole yet again.

"Oh God," Dimitri sighed, pulling an available chair round the side of the desk and dropping down on to it heavily. "Please don't say we have another inside man. I've had enough traitors to last me a life time."

"Wait until you live through thirty years of it Dimitri," Harry said wearily, having overheard everything being said after all. "Then you'll have cause to complain."

"If I have to go through thirty years of that," Dimitri muttered. "Then I might get out while I still can."

Harry smiled dryly in return, "If only I had that sentiment when I was your age."

With that, he made to retreat to his office again, but he felt a warm hand on his arm for just a moment. He turned slightly to find Ruth, who had been silent since his approach, staring at him with an open mouth, as if about to say something but did not know how to begin.

"Yes Ruth?" he asked quietly, meeting her eyes for the first time in weeks.

Ruth seemed to struggle with herself, and looked at the floor. Slowly she raised her head to gaze straight ahead at his lapel and asked quietly, "Are…are you meeting Elena again tonight?"

Harry knew he should feel annoyed at himself for the spark of happiness that had arisen when she had asked that question. She was still jealous.

"That's none of your business Ruth." He said curtly, and was about to manoeuvre himself back to his office once more when she tugged at his arm for a second time.

"What now?"

Ruth shrugged, her expression sadly unreadable, and handed him various pieces of paper from the file she had been cradling in her arms over the last few minutes. Harry's stomach gave a jolt as he realised from a mere glance they all seemed to contain information relating to Jim Coaver.

"What's this?"

"You asked me to help you find out who's using your codes…pretending to be you." She shrugged. "If I were you, I'd check Coaver."

"Jim was a good and valuable asset."

"Yes, but I think you'll also find in there," she said indicating the papers. "An enlarged photograph I found, just by chance, of some of Coaver's men- men who work directly under him and follow his orders- conducting unauthorised surveillance on both Elena and Ilya Gavrik. He was also in Berlin with you."

Harry stared at her disbelievingly for a few seconds, before pulling out the photograph. He could not believe it was Jim. Good old James who had been an ally to him, when no one else had…who had more than once covered for him and Elena against Ilya Gavrik himself.

"That does not prove anything. It is flimsy evidence. It could easily be a fake." Harry shrugged sceptically. "Have you tested it?"

"I can't…not without alerting people to what I'm doing." Ruth said looking at the floor. "And you asked me to do this for you… privately."

Harry knew she was only trying to help, but he had not expected her to launch an accusation upon one of his oldest friends and ally, and he was beginning to feel quite irritated.

"Well it's not Jim." He snapped. "I knew Jim well…he's not a traitor, and he does not commit fraud. Why would he do it? What could be possibly get out of it?"

"I don't know, but surely it's worth a look-"

"No." Harry growled, before marching back into his office and slamming the door. Equally as annoyed, Ruth turned on her heel in the opposite direction and marched off towards her desk. She noted that Harry had taken the evidence with him.

* * *

><p>Ruth sighed as she turned over yet another page of Jim Coaver's file. It was relatively late- having apprehended Victor Elliot, who had been responsible for the theft of the laptop- or so he claimed, Erin had taken the opportunity to go home to her daughter, whilst Calum had sauntered off to the pub. He did this so very often, Ruth was beginning to wonder whether he was a borderline alcoholic. But then again, she considered, Harry was used to consuming large amounts of whiskey after a difficult case. She felt a pang of anger towards him yet again, furthered this time by his inability to take her theory about Coaver seriously. In recent times, she had found herself wondering what exactly her purpose was on the grid, and she had concluded that perhaps, to Harry at least, she was just some nosy over-glorified secretary. Yet here she was, again trying to prove herself and her work to him.<p>

Her suspicions in to Coaver had deepened over the past few hours, after a rather interesting phone call with a CIA underling, who, when she had requested help from the CIA systems over the identity of the laptop thief, had denied her this. When she questioned the reason why this was, he said the CIA was not at liberty to intervene or liaise with Britain during the present climate, or in clearer terms, the British-Russian agreement. Not knowing at all where this had come from, Ruth had demanded to know who had authorised this, and who he worked for. Although he had not replied to this comment, she found out via his position in the CIA, and from a rather more helpful source, that he worked for none other than James Coaver. Ruth was rather dubious if this was actually the CIA's position in regards to the British-Russian diplomacy discussions, or just Jim Coaver trying to cover something. She had informed Harry of this, but he had, yet again, refused to listen to her theories, and left the grid of a meeting with the Home Secretary.

Dimitri sat in his usual seat and looked over at what she was working on: "Jim Coaver?" he said, frowning. "Who's he?"

"Nothing…" Ruth said hastily. "Just…nothing. Something Harry's asked me to look into for him."

"I wouldn't have thought that was possible considering the way you two have been avoiding each other recently." He commented, closing his eyes when he realised he had stuck his foot in it. Ruth had stiffened next to him, her fists white as they clenched around her pen. "Sorry," he said quickly. "None of my business."

Ruth gave a ghost of smile, and returned to her work, "Haven't you got a home to go to?"

"I could ask you the same question." Dimitri retorted, grinning. "Anyway, didn't you know? Everyone on the grid is nocturnal."

Ruth didn't reply- she did not even award his remark with a smile, which she normally did at least. That worried him. Her depressive state seemed to have worsened over the past few weeks, and he was becoming increasingly concerned.

"You okay?" he asked as casually as he could. Of course, he knew the reply he was going to get.

"Fine." She replied, as anticipated.

"Ruth!"

They both jumped and looked round to see Harry leaning out of his office door slightly, and indicating for her to come in. Biting her lip, and wondering if this was at all sensible, Ruth obeyed. Dimitri stared as she wearily followed Harry inside, and shut the door behind her. He prayed silently that perhaps they were working something out between them, but knew that was probably just a fool's hope. Too tired to complete any paperwork, he stood and went to search out Tariq who was still feverishly attempting to find the people really responsible for the laptop being stolen. The person, or people who had hired Victor Elliot.

Ruth slid the office door shut, and hovered awkwardly in the vicinity of the door, in case she needed a hasty exit. Harry watched her closely, and felt the familiar fury at himself, as she rested her eyes meekly and determinedly on the floor. Still, he had not the time to think about their complications at the moment.

"Ruth," he began, equally as awkwardly as she looked. "I know this is the last thing you will want to hear after...after everything." Ruth swallowed slightly- an act which was not missed by Harry. "But, I have to go and meet Elena."

Ruth looked at him so quickly, before drawing her head back down again, that had he not been regarding her so closely, he might have missed it.

"Do you really have to rub it in, Harry?" she murmured quietly.

"It's not for personal reasons." He replied firmly. "I have to meet her to find out the details of this impersonator mess. I didn't really have time to ask her everything that night because of...other matters."

"Sorry." Ruth murmured limply, although she was not at all sure why she was apologising.

Harry hated seeing and hearing her sound so lifeless and fragile, but forced himself on: "I'm going to meet her at the Russian ballet. I'm telling _you_ this because...because you're the only one who knows. You're the only one I can trust Ruth." He said genuinely. "I need to tell you in case anything happens, and I might need back up." Ruth nodded limply again. "And I realise it is late, but I want you to hold the fort for me while I'm gone. Especially with Tariq identifying our man."

Harry half expected her to interrupt with 'Or woman', but in reality knew this would never happen anymore. The old Ruth might possibly have reprimanded him for this, but too much had changed for that now.

"Of course." Ruth nodded dutifully, still not meeting his eyes.

"I take it Tariq is still here?" he asked, purely out of something to say, that would not break her heart even further.

"Yes," Ruth said quietly. She had a hint of a smile on her face as she added, "He's nocturnal, just like the rest of us."

Although he did not have a clue what she was going on about, Harry liked the way her mouth had upturned just a little on the left hand side. Even though it was just a ghost of a smile, it was better than seeing her miserable.

"Quite." He replied. Reluctantly, he checked his watch and tutted loudly, "I'm going to have to get going."

Ruth's expression returned to its constant frown and she nodded, taking his comment as her cue to leave. She turned round, opened the door and left without another word.

* * *

><p>Two hours later, Dimitri had departed from the grid, as had most people, leaving only Ruth and Tariq still remaining. Although Ruth was desperate to get to the bottom of her Coaver investigation, her eyes and head were beginning to ache, and her stomach was starting to ground in a demand for food. It had occurred to her briefly that she had not eaten anything since her breakfast that morning, but she decided she could not really stomach any food- particularly with the thought of Harry and Elena sitting closely together in the comfortable seats, at the empty Russian ballet hall; her nausea could not handle that. Ruth closed the file, slipped it in her draw, and locked it.<p>

Ruth found Tariq still at his terminal, running software that still baffled her, despite her increasing skills with the new technology. It was not a bad feat, considering that when she had first arrived she could not even fix a desk lamp or send a text message. Tariq still looked relatively perky, but she put this down to the five empty plastic coffee cups all placed neatly in a row next to his keyboard.

"How are you doing?" she asked quietly, sitting down next to him. "Have you found anything yet?"

"Not yet," he admitted, not glancing up from the variety of monitors. "But I will."

Ruth nodded, but watched him sadly for a few seconds more. Along with her and Harry, he was the last one to leave the grid at night and among the first to arrive the following day. He was so young- he deserved to be going out and meeting people; living his life to the full. Instead, he was shut away in the gloom of the grid, cramped in front of a computer terminal for long hours, and watching people die each day. Ruth hated the thought that he might end up like her. She did not want him to end up alone, with nothing but a job to define his life and personality.

"What's up?" she had not noticed Tariq looking at her for a few seconds.

"Nothing" Ruth said quickly, glancing down at the floor.

"Has Harry gone home yet?"

"No...No he's gone to meet...an asset."

"At this time?" Tariq asked. "It's pretty late isn't it?"

Ruth nodded, trying not to look upset at this thought, but failing miserably. Even Tariq managed to guess her fears that the meeting might not be strictly business.

"He does like you." Tariq said suddenly. Ruth could not help but smile slightly at his abruptness- straight and to the point- that was Tariq. However, she looked determinedly away from her younger colleague, and shook her head faintly.

"It doesn't matter." She murmured. But it did matter to her. It mattered so much to her sometimes, it hurt.

"Come on," Tariq grinned, placing one hand on her shoulder briefly in an attempt to comfort her. "If I can see that- and you know me...emotional span of a teaspoon and all that...well that's what Dimitri says anyway- surely you can see it."

"Tariq, you ignore Dimitri," Ruth said firmly. "Just because sometimes he thinks he's God's gift to women. You're fine as you are." But she smiled all the same.

Tariq shrugged, his grin just as wide, "I know. But anyway, Harry does care about you."

Ruth smiled at him a little wanly, knowing he was only trying to comfort her, "Perhaps."

"He saved your life with the whole Albany thing didn't he?"

Ruth's smile was lost, and she returned her gaze to her feet. It was a couple of seconds later when she said, a little sadly, "Not the same thing I'm afraid. You could care about someone so much that you'd be prepared to lose your life for them, but it doesn't necessarily mean you love them."

Tariq watched Ruth for a few seconds more, knowing he was not possibly going to win the argument, before suddenly bouncing up and heading towards the kitchenette, "Do you want a coffee?" he asked.

Ruth smiled gratefully at his offer, but declined. She still wasn't really in the mood for any sort of refreshment. "No...thank you."

"Well, I'm getting one." Tariq turned back towards the kitchenette.

"Tariq!" Ruth said loudly, surprised to hear herself almost laugh. "You can't possibly drink another cup of coffee."

"Why not?" he grinned cheerfully.

"Because you've already had five!"

He shrugged, "What's a sixth going to do?"

Ruth managed to smile a little more genuinely now- she had missed the office banter in recent times, "Give you insomnia for about a week?" she suggested.

She was about to get up and follow him through to his destination, when she turned and found a familiar red message suddenly flashing on the screen, "Tariq!" she called, and her younger colleague immediately jogged back towards the terminal. He grinned gleefully, and sat down to start analysing the screen properly.

"What is it?" Ruth asked.

"I've got a match on the muggers who stole the laptop. They've been seen elsewhere."

He attempted too run the footage on the screen, but it remained blank. He clicked his tongue, annoyed.

"What is it?" Ruth asked. "Is there something wrong with it?"

"You could say that," Tariq sighed, running his hand through his now shortened dark hair. "The file I'm trying to access seems to be corrupted. If I try and view it here on the grid, I might end up sending a virus to the MI5 mainframe, and that's the last thing we want."

"What do we do with it then?" Ruth sighed, wondering if this was going to end up another dead end.

"I can go home, and access all of this on my computer, using my protocols. Then I'll come straight back and show you what I've got."

"Have you got the right software at home?" Ruth asked surprised, but realising this was a stupid question as soon as it escaped her mouth. Tariq raised his eyebrows at her and she smiled.

"Okay okay."

Tariq grinned, picked up his jacket from around his chair, and headed for the pods. "Be back soon." He grinned and exited the pods. Ruth sighed, a little more cheerful than she had been feeling before, but nevertheless, very much aware that she was now alone on the grid.

* * *

><p>Careful that he was not followed, Harry entered the ballet hall, and climbed the flight of steps to the left. He could not remember the last time he had actually seen a proper ballet. Jane, his ex-wife, had never been particularly enthusiastic about them; nor had she been enthusiastic at all at the prospect of an evening out with Harry, for that matter. He concluded that the last time he had witnessed a ballet, was during those meetings with Elena all those years ago, in Berlin. He felt a twinge of sorrow in his heart as he wondered if he and Ruth might have attended the ballet together, if things had been a little different.<p>

Harry tugged open the door to the main auditorium and was about to descend the steps, when he spotted Elena sitting in the back row, as always, perfectly poised, and awaiting his arrival. He shifted along the row of seats and sat down next to her, his heard beating fast. He was very much aware that the last time they had met in a venue like this, Sasha had happened. He sat awkwardly with her for a few seconds, before he heard her speak and he turned his head to look at her:

"Just like old times Harry?" she said softly.

Harry nodded, and tried to smile, but could not quite manage it.

"You said the other night that you were not the one sending me the messages." Elena said, apparently realising he was there for business only; not a chat about old times.

"Yes." He said sincerely. "I'm sorry you've got mixed up in this. I will find a way to keep you and your family safe though, no matter what."

"I know you will Harry." She replied, with her pretty eyes standing out as usual, and her scarlet lips widening into a smile of adoration. Harry forced himself not to rise to the bait, and there were a couple of minutes of silence between them- for Harry it was incredibly awkward, but Elena seemed to be enjoying it as a companionable silence.

"Do you know who is behind it yet?" she asked eventually, turning her head to look at the empty stage. The dust curtains had been drawn down so that only its blackened screen could be seen and not the beauty of stage behind it.

"We're working on it." Harry said reassuringly.

Elena swivelled her head to look at him again- her pretty features now slightly contorted to a frown, "We?" she asked. "I thought you said you would keep it a secret, Harry?"

"I will." He said firmly. "I had to let Ruth know- I needed her analytical skills, and she's the best of the best. Don't worry; you can trust her-she won't tell anyone."

The corner of Elena's mouth upturned slightly, but her jaw looked a little tight, "Ruth is the woman you were at the ball with that night...who overheard us talking?"

Harry nodded, swallowing as he remembered that night as Ruth fled away from him, "Yes."

Elena turned her head gracefully once again to look at the stage, "So you have no idea of yet?"

Harry sighed, "Not really. Although Ruth suspects Jim Coaver might have something to do with it."

Elena inclined her head slightly towards him at the mention of Coaver's name. It was apparently familiar. He had wondered whether she would remember him after all those years.

"Jim Coaver." Elena repeated softly.

"Do you remember him?"

"Yes, he was your American friend in Berlin. I think he was CIA was he not?" she smiled. "He helped us escape one time, when Ilya almost found us together. I think that was also at the ballet."

Harry could not help but smile at the reminiscence.

"Do you believe it could be him?" Elena asked.

Harry sighed, and rubbed his eyes tiredly, "I don't see how it can be. What could he possibly gain?"

"I told whoever it was all about us. Everything we did- the work I did for you, and...us."

"And since Jim knew all about this," Harry concluded. "There is nothing he could gain from it. Exactly. Ruth must be wrong; although she is furious I don't believe her."

He noticed a smile playing on Elena's lips, but chose to ignore it. Instead, steering the conversation away from Ruth he asked, "Where is Ilya?"

Elena smiled wanly, "Where do you think? He is at a meeting. I asked Sasha to bring me here."

Harry's head shot up to look into her eyes for the first time that evening, "Sasha is here?"

"Yes, he is downstairs."

"He knows all about us?"

Elena hesitated, "He does not know about us, but he knows I used to spy for you. It is not easy for him; he is very loyal to his father and to his country."

Harry nodded grimly, "I can imagine."

A sudden loud ringing interrupted another silence between them, and the peaceful tranquillity of the hall. Harry realised it was his phone that was blaring away, and he reached into his coat pocket to retrieve it, and looked at the caller ID. It was not a number he recognised at all, and so after letting it ring for a few more seconds, he disconnected the call and switched the mobile off.

"Are you not needed?" Elena asked, as he pushed his phone back into his inside pocket.

"No. It's probably a wrong number." There were only a handful of callers he could expect to ring him at this hour including any member of his team, Ruth on one of the telephones at the grid, or the Home Secretary. It had not been any of them.

He turned to Elena again to see her staring at him in adoration, her eyes smiling and skin crinkled at the sides, "I've missed working for you Harry." She said softly. "I've missed you."

Without further warning, Elena reached up and this time managed to capture Harry's lips in her own, pressing against them with longing. He was taken by surprise and found himself responding to the kiss with equal intensity; a fault of his past had been him never being able to deny himself of Elena in this way. It was what had begun the affair that had Elena step over the boundary between asset and officer. He felt her slip her tongue in to his mouth when he realised just what he was doing, and he pulled her away, somewhat more roughly than he intended to.

"No!" he growled. She looked shocked and his outburst and he continued a little more calmly.

"I'm sorry, I can't Elena. You have your life now and I have mine. You have Ilya and Sasha."

"And you have Ruth?" Elena said suddenly, her voice containing a hard edge to it now. At his expression of surprised, she smiled. "Come on Harry- the way you two looked at each other that night. Perhaps the relationship has not escalated so far in a physical way," she reasoned. "But in other ways…it has. You know she loves you too?"

Harry did not reply, but felt a tiny twinge of hope in his heart as she uttered this comment. Although Elena had only met Ruth for a matter of minutes, she had apparently been able to sense this, whilst he had waited and wondered for years whether she felt this way. Yet he knew it was not appropriate to press Elena for answers to a relationship; whether they liked it or not, they would always have a connection in that they were both parent to the same child.

"Why would anyone do this now Harry?" she asked, turning the subject completely. "After all these years?"

"I wish I had the answer." He admitted honestly. "For both our sake's."

"Is this goodbye?" she asked, as if reading his mind. They both knew that if someone was doing this, they were possibly being watched and could not risk meeting like this too often. If Ilya Gavrik found out about their relationship, even if it had occurred thirty years ago, she would be a dead woman immediately, and Harry knew he probably would not make it to retirement either.

"It's an informal goodbye." He said eventually.

"What?" Elena asked, a smile playing on her face.

"I mean we shall aim for this to be our final meeting. But if anything should happen…well…we'll probably end up crossing paths again anyway."

She nodded and stood. He mirrored her action, and she bended gracefully to kiss his cheek. Harry nodded and smiled his goodbye; their eyes met for a moment longer, before he turned away, left the auditorium, and exited the building. In a true spy-like fashion, Elena left with Sasha twenty minutes later.

* * *

><p>The sound of her phone buzzing away on the table top woke Ruth who had fallen into a doze half an hour previously, with her head in her arms on the desk. As her head shot up, she took a moment to realise where she was and what had woken her, before she tucked a strand of fallen hair behind her ear and answered the phone.<p>

For a moment the person on the other end of the line did not say anything, but to her horror, she heard heavy laboured breathing, and short sharp cries of pain.

"Hello?" she said anxiously.

"Ruth-" Her heart plummeted as she recognised the voice as Tariq's, and by the sound of him, he seemed to be in pain.

Sleep far away now, Ruth stood up for absolutely no reason but too calm herself and said, "Tariq are you alright? You sound…are you hurt?"

There was more laboured breathing before he answered, his usually bright, cheerful voice lost and replaced with a quiet, strangled tone of fear, "Doesn't matter…have some…something to tell…you."

"Tariq where are you?" she asked panicking, her own voice now beginning to tremble.

"'s too late." He breathed. Ruth could hear traffic in the distance and the sound of a motor.

"Where are you?" she demanded.

"Taxi…just…coming…Thames House now."

Hurrying from the grid, with the ear still attached to her phone, she exited the pods and ran as fast as she could towards the ground floor level of Thames House, eventually reaching the entrance. She looked around desperately for any sign of him, but she could see neither hide nor hair of him.

"I can't see you." She said, trying to stop panicking, as it was beginning to draw that familiar sense of nausea and tears.

"Be…there in a mo…" he said, and she could hear his audible cry of pain once more.

"Tariq-"

"They found me," he said, sounding more and groggier as if he was slipping in to unconsciousness. "I had to get out quickly and…and bring information…here. I've go…got it."

"Who found you?" Ruth asked, tears slipping down her face.

"Had…had to warn you…they're all in…in it together."

"Who are?" she cried, not caring passers by were now turning to stare.

Yet as soon as the words left her mouth she saw the taxi drive up, and her heart went cold at the sight of Tariq sprawled in the back seat, breathing laboured, and clutching his chest tightly. She thrust open the door and all but dragged Tariq out of the back seat. His eyes were closed, frowning against the bright street lamps, and lights from passing traffic, and there were tiny beads of seat forming all over his skin.

"Bloody hell!" the driver cried, as he watched her lower him to the stone tiles of the pavement. "What the…he was fine when he got in."

But Ruth only had eyes for her youngest colleague, and with shaking fingers, she gently lifted up his jacket, and gasped back a sob. Emerging all over his lower abdomen was a large, swollen rash, with a puncture wound from a needle taking the centre. In the past hour in which he had been gone, Tariq had been attacked and injected with God knows what. She hurriedly felt for a pulse. It was there, but only just lingering. She noticed his eyes beginning to close shut fully, as if on the cusp of unconsciousness."

"No Tariq- stay awake." He shook him gently, and he responded by opening his eyes a fraction. "Get an ambulance now." She ordered the taxi driver without evening looking up; he obeyed this without question. Ruth, brushing her tears away furiously with the back of her hand, moved to hold Tariq's hands in hers, when she noticed he was clutching something tightly in his hands. Tariq kept his eyes open just long enough to see her spot the object in his fist, and with an incredible effort he lifted his hand and passed it to her.

"This…im…important." He said struggling to even speak, and equally he was struggling to breathe more than ever. "Don't…let _them_ know." Ruth knew this made no sense but she took the tiny plastic, wired device and kept listening, swallowing the sob in her throat. "They're all in it…together. Tell…Harry. Co…Coav-"

But Tariq did not manage to finish his sentence as he finally slipped into unconsciousness after the supreme effort of passing on the information. Ruth desperately tried to feel his pulse once more as she heard the ambulance siren nearing the scene. Tears cascaded down her cheeks when she realised that he had no pulse. It had stopped. His heart had stopped. She sat there in shock for a moment, before pulling herself together and attempting without prevail to revive him.

"No!" she sobbed, clutching at Tariq's chest, as the paramedics hurried forward and snatched her away from her youngest friend. "Tariq…no…no!" The last thing she saw of Tariq was the young man being swamped by paramedics as they tried to revive him.

**Oh no! Harry's going to regret that he didn't answer his phone earlier. If you want to find out more... Please Review. I love reviews xx**


	9. Chapter 9

**Little bit of a shorter chapter here, but hopefully you still like it. Loving Series 10! Thank you to you beautiful people who reviewed! Please R&R...**

Harry reluctantly stepped on to the grid that morning, feeling older and more tired than ever before. Another one had gone; their youngest colleague dead. He died on their doorstep, and he had not even been there. Harry painfully acknowledged that he never was there when they died- Adam, Ros, Jo, Danny- all of them died fighting whilst he was safely away behind the walls of Thames House- or in the case of last night, safely tucked away in the ballet hall with a woman he thought he had long since said goodbye to. Harry's throat was as dry as crumpled paper as he approached his team, all of whom were centred around Dimitri and Ruth's desks. Tariq's station remained untouched and immaculate as always; other than that empty weightless feeling of bereavement, it was as if nothing had changed. His favourite Physics Facts mug lay next to his monitor, along with five empty Styrofoam cups. Harry almost smiled as he remembered Tariq and his studious coffee addiction. Yet other than that, there were few personal artefacts of a man so well loved by his colleagues. It was as John Bateman had said- this job takes you in and spits you back out. You do not have time for a social life; Tariq had embodied the exact sentiment of Harry. The job was everything. Two years of regret flooded through him, as Harry realised he should have encouraged Tariq more to lead something akin to a normal life, gather a circle of friends- be a somebody.

Harry felt his stomach knot itself agonisingly tightly as he saw Ruth being held and consoled by Dimitri, as silent tears slid down her pale cheeks from her painfully red eyes. Although the younger man said nothing, he could tell they were both grieving inwardly- there were no words of comfort he could really console Ruth with. Harry stopped mid-step, unsure if he even had the courage to face Ruth after everything she had witnessed last night. Not only had she lost another colleague and friend, but this time, he had died in her arms. He knew all too well that feeling of fragility and helplessness that was now obvious in her eyes. The feeling that you could have done so much more to help the fallen, but you realised something was wrong, too late. His heart broke as she looked up at him briefly, tears still in full flow, and gently disengaged herself from Dimitri. She then mumbled an excuse incoherently, and walked off in the direction of the kitchenette. Dimitri, whose eyes were also slightly red, watched her go concerned, but not having the strength after today's blow to go after her. Yet after a few seconds, hearing heart wrenching sobs carrying from that direction, Harry took a deep breath and followed her inside.

He found Ruth clinging onto the sideboard, her hunched shoulders shaking with wracking sobs; her face contorted and crumpled. Harry desperately wanted to take her in his arms, and completely disregard his crumbling resolve, and he moved towards her to do so, when she suddenly caught sight of him in the mirror on the left hand cupboard and whirled around. She pushed him away with such vigour that he had to take a step back to steady himself. Harry was at a loss at what to say except:

"Ruth-"

"Leave me alone." She replied hollowly, her voice deep with tears and pain. She took deep shuddering breaths to try and calm herself, and at least maintain some form of dignity around him.

"No." he growled. "Not when you're like this. You should have taken the day off."

Ruth snorted, "Why? What good would that do?" she cried. "He's gone Harry. Tariq's gone. And as you always say, we have to move on. We have to grieve another time."

Harry remembered those words he had told her from all those years ago, and he closed his eyes. He had said that to her years ago, at a time when he still considered her a naïve young girl; at a time when he had claimed that all you could have in this job were colleagues who you would die for- but no friends.

"Ruth," he said quietly. "You've been grieving for everything for years."

"Well I haven't got time to sit around at home and grieve." She snapped suddenly. "We've got to find who did this to him. We've got to avenge his death."

Harry hated hearing her talk so roughly and definitively about revenge, and it shocked him. This was Ruth, the peaceful, clumsy gentle woman who would never hurt a soul. He could only think of one circumstance in which he had seen her as shiny-eyed and wild, and that was after her experience with Keith Deerey last year; she had shot the assassin three times until he died.

"I know you're hurting," he said, as her eyes flicked furiously to him. "We all are. And I am so very sorry you were the one who had to watch as he-"

But at that moment, before he could react, Ruth sprang forward and began hitting him repeatedly in the chest, over and over again, as the tears rolled on down her cheeks. Her punches hurt a lot, as they crashed into his chest, and her reaction shook him greatly, but after a few seconds he grabbed hold of her wrists so she was not able to move her hands and manoeuvred her against the sideboard, so that she could not cause any more harm. It pained him even further to see her energy just drain away, and she was forced to lean into him to avoid collapse. He wrapped her limp form in his arms, and held her as she wept. As he rubbed soothing circles around her back, he noticed her arms automatically draw themselves round him; seeking a comfort she so desperately craved. Knowing he had to ignore the slight feeling of joy at holding her once again, Harry said nothing and simply pressed a kiss to her forehead. She pressed her face against his chest and breathed in his comforting, reassuring scent, before she realised what exactly she was doing.

"Why didn't you answer?" she asked, her voice suddenly growing hard again.

Harry froze, and looked down at her, as she disengaged herself from him, "What?"

"I called you from the hospital- I needed you…Tariq needed you and you didn't answer."

Harry frowned. He was not aware that she had rung him at all, or he would almost certainly have answered. And then it hit- during his time in the theatre with Elena, he had received a caller, whom he did not know. "What? Tariq died just outside, when he collapsed?"

"The paramedics got him back for a moment. They took him to the hospital. When I called you," Ruth was saying. "Tariq was still alive. He wasn't conscious, but he wasn't gone either."

Harry felt as though she had just punched him in the stomach again, although this hurt much more. The idea that she had called him in her hour of need and he had not answered made him hate himself more than she probably hated him at this moment. He wanted to take her in his arms again, and make everything right, but knew it had gone too far for that. She was eyeing him again:

"Why didn't you answer?" she demanded again.

"I was meeting Elena." Harry said, hating the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. "And I thought it was a wrong number." Ruth snorted and turned away from him. "I didn't know anything like this was going to happen at all."

"So whilst you were cosying up to that woman," Ruth said angrily, unable to even utter Elena's name at that moment. "Tariq was in agony. He was fighting for his life when he arrived here Harry. He could barely breathe, let alone speak."

"I am so sorry-"

"He was twenty-seven years old!" she cried, completely ignoring him. She wanted to shout and rage at his calmness. "He was younger than Jo; younger than Danny."

"I know-"

There was a pause before Ruth said in a contrastingly soft voice, "I've had enough Harry."

Harry's heart stopped again. He had a feeling she was not just talking about the nature of their job. He wanted to say something- anything that might comfort her in some way- but there was nothing. Like Dimitri, he could not find anything for her to cling on to. So Harry remained silent and turned away briefly to face the counter. Immersed in his thoughts he barely noticed a Styrofoam cup of cold black coffee lying idly on the table top. He only became aware of it, as his hands automatically leaned tiredly on the counter, and almost knocked it over.

"Who has bloody left this lying around?" He tutted irritably. "If they weren't going to drink it they shouldn't have made it. Or they should at least have cleared up after themselves."

Ruth looked up suddenly, from her gaze at the floor and joined him at the table top. She stared at the cup of coffee for a few moments before Harry saw the tears come down again.

"Ruth," Harry said awkwardly. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean to lose my temper. I-"

Ruth shook her head, tears still running freely down her cheeks, as her gaze remained fixed on the cup. "No, it's…not that." She drew in a shuddering breath. "Tariq made that before he left the grid. He was on to the people who were behind the laptop theft. He needed to go home to do something- he said he might damage the grid's systems if he did it here. He poured the drink, but…but he never drank it."

Harry closed his eyes, and berated himself again for his words. How much more wrong could he do that day? He looked concernedly at Ruth who was staring fixatedly at the cup still, as if doing so would bring Tariq back.

"I let him go." She said brokenly, and in blinking she released yet more tears.

"What?"

"I should have told him to leave it." She said; her breathing more and more frantic. "I should never have let him leave the grid, and work at home." Quietly she began to cry again. "It's all my fault."

This was too much for Harry, who could not bear to see her blame herself. Not caring about her reaction, he stepped forward and gripped her arms, forcing her to look up at him. "No it's not Ruth."

"It's my fault, they got to him." she cried. "It's my fault he's dead."

"No it's not." He repeated, this time so forcefully she stopped crying and looked at him. "How could it ever be your fault Ruth? You didn't know what was going to happen. Tariq did his job, as he always does. How could anyone have known what was going to happen?"

"I-"

"They couldn't." Harry finished. "You couldn't have known Ruth."

Ruth did not contradict him this time; only stared into his own rather watery hazel eyes. Praying he was not overstepping her boundaries, although completely overstepping the ones he had set himself, he put his arms round her again. She did not pull away; in fact she moved further into his embrace. Harry could feel her hot tears falling onto his shirt beneath his jacket, and he hushed her gently. They stood like that for a minute or so before Ruth said softly:

"He comforted me last night."

"Hhmm?"

"After…after everything, he comforted me…in his own strange way of course." They both smiled a little at this. "But it was nice."

"He was a good man." Harry smiled.

Ruth sniffed, "Yes he was."

"What did he say?" Harry asked, wondering why he was prying into this.

He felt Ruth stiffen, but she did not pull away. "He…he said that you…that you liked me."

"Ah." Harry said, battling with himself not to give himself away.

The moment between them was too precious these days. The silence between them was suddenly disrupted as Dimitri tapped on the door of the kitchenette, eyes still red, but said quite steadily:

"Home Secretary's here to see you Harry."

Harry nodded his thanks, and turned back to look at Ruth, whose eyes had returned their gaze to the floor. After Dimitri left, she looked back up at Harry and he smiled encouragingly at her.

"We must go on Ruth." He said sadly, and indicated they should both leave the kitchenette. She wiped her eyes once again on the back of her hand, and sniffed before nodding and following him out of the room. She thought she felt his hand squeeze her shoulder for a second, as they parted in different directions- her to her desk, and he to meet the Home Secretary.

* * *

><p>Hours later, the team seated themselves quietly in the meeting room, whilst Harry closed the door and joined them. Each persons gaze was fixed on the table, and he took the time to stare at each one of them in turn. Ruth, though still looking scarily broken and pale, appeared a little stronger than before; he would have liked to think that their talk from earlier might have helped but could not help wondering if it was the tough old Ruth from months ago, who had simply put the barriers up again. Erin, though promoted vastly beyond her years, was clearly not used to these situations and looked thoroughly shocked, whilst even Calum stared down at the table, shaken. Harry feared the young officers had learnt the hard way to take the job seriously. Dimitri was breathing rather heavily, but his face was unreadable and Harry guessed it had been down to him to hold the team together during his absence with the Home Secretary. The Home Secretary himself had been remarkably unhelpful, giving him a pointless update on the Russian-British relationship and his less than genuine condolences for Tariq's death.<p>

"I know some of you are not as used to losing friends and colleagues as others in this room." Harry began quietly, and they all turned to look at him. "And I know all of you will be shocked and angry by the turn of last night. But I promise you we will find those responsible for his death, and I assure you they will not get off lightly."

There was a general silent consensus around the room, with some nodding of the heads. He turned to Dimitri, and said apologetically, "I'm sorry I have to ask you to do this-"

Before Harry could finish his sentence however, Dimitri nodded and pulled out various pieces of paper from the file he had been guarding.

"I…I visited our pathologist in the morgue and he gave me a post-mortem; the reasons behind Tariq's death."

Dimitri took another deep breath but kept going. "From the injuries sustained, it seems he was injected by an overdose that was exceptionally strong. Ruth said the taxi driver claimed he was fine before he got into the car, so we can assume he had only just received the blow a few seconds before the taxi got there."

Harry glanced over at Ruth whose hands were knotted on the desk and her eyes were closed as if in silent prayer that this whole situation was not happening. He could tell that she was reliving the whole scene in her mind, and he desperately wanted her to stop.

"Tariq's place is only about twenty minutes away from Thames House so the poison would have taken effect during the course of this time. He was working on the laptop thief and he went home to get the footage so that we can identity them, but he was caught. It seems his computer was rigged so that an alarm went off and they could tell when he was loading the footage. They got to him before he told us."

Harry looked round at his broken colleagues and dismissed them, knowing they would all try doubly at hard to apprehend whoever had stolen the laptop now. Normally he would have been glad of the motivation, but this had come at too high a price. Ruth approached Harry as he made to follow the other members of the team out of the meeting room door, and said quietly:

"I…I spoke to Tariq's parents whilst you were with the Home Secretary-"

Harry sighed, wondering desperately why she had put herself in such a position after everything she had witnessed the previous night, "Ruth you didn't need to do that."

Ruth shook her head, "No, I think did. I watched that boy die…I was the last colleague…friend…what you will- to see him alive. I think it was my duty to let them know what happened-"

Harry's expression changed suddenly, "You didn't actually tell them the nature of his death-?"

Ruth shook her head and smiled wryly, "No, when did we ever tell those we love the truth?" Harry sighed, knowing all too well what that felt like, and listened helplessly as she continued. "I told his father he died in the line of service…that he was a hero."

Harry nodded, "They always are." He stated sadly.

Ruth looked down at the floor, her shoulder-length hair flopping down in front of her face to hide her features. "They want a private funeral for him- just close friends and family."

Both of them knew the colleagues on the grid, no matter how well they knew Tariq, would ever be classed as close friends. Ruth could recall the grief and blame in the man's voice, when she had spoken to Tariq's father; the pain in his eyes. He looked so much like an older version of Tariq it was almost too painful to witness, but she had known this was not something that could be handled over the phone. She owed them that much. She owed Tariq that much.

"It's like I said," she said quietly. "We don't get to grieve properly for those we lose. It's almost like we're treated as machines in this job; people think we don't care."

"Well at least we know different." Harry replied quietly.

Ruth was keeping the tears expertly at bay now, despite her overwhelming feeling of grief. She nodded at his words, and aimed to join him in heading out the door when she remembered Tariq's parting words.

"Harry…" she said awkwardly, not really knowing where to begin, considering his reactions to her earlier suspicions. Harry turned to meet her eyes, and although he nodded politely for her to speak, he could tell she was going to be bridging a topic he did not like. "Harry…when Tariq was…well, before he went to the hospital, he was frightened. And I mean _really_ frightened. You know Tariq rarely showed dear, but there was genuine_ terror_ in his eyes."

"Ruth, he had just been attacked; the man was dying for God's sake." Harry said reasonably.

"Yes I know, but…but it was more than that. I know he was disorientated, but he said something like, 'Don't let them know- they're all in it together'."

"I…what?" Harry said confusedly. He shook his head. "Like you said Ruth, the poor boy was disorientated. He was dying."

"It was never like Tariq to get frightened over something. He just dealt with it in his own way."

"I think even you would be frightened if you knew you were going to die." Harry said, now rather impatiently.

"Just consider for one moment though that it means something- something to do with what he found. The reason he was killed?"

Harry sighed, unconvinced.

Ruth bit her lip, but decided to persevere onwards. "Before he went unconscious…Tariq started to tell me something. I think it was someone's name, and I'm pretty sure I know how it ends."

"What?"

Ruth sighed, and prayed he would believe her this time, "Coaver. I think he started to say Coaver."

Harry paused to stare at her and then groaned impatiently, "Ruth, what exactly have you got against Jim Coaver? It's all you witter about these days. You seem to think he's behind everything at the moment."

Hurt, Ruth retaliated angrily, "What have you got against taking me seriously Harry?"

"I am. I mean, I do. But the evidence you've compiled so far has been…flimsy. You have no proof, and I honestly cannot believe he is mixed up in this."

"Why are you being so pig-headed?" Ruth demanded, throwing caution to the wind to finally get his motives out in the open.

"Ruth," Harry growled, now equally as angry. "In case you haven't noticed, I am still your boss. You don't have the right to question me on my reasoning's. You're supposed to trust my judgement."

"Right," Ruth snapped. "Like you trust mine? It's a two-way street Harry."

"Enough." He snapped.

"Surely, if this is an opportunity to find out what happened to Tariq, it's at least worth a look into?"

"I said enough!" he snapped loudly. "You're upset, and compromised- go home and rest- things will seem different after you've had time to think reasonably."

Furious at this last comment, and his patronising nature, Ruth yelled, "I think you'll find I'm not the one who is compromised Harry. You're too personally involved in this whole thing with Elena and yet you're telling me I'm compromised. I've thought many things about you Harry, but I never thought you were a hypocrite."

"Home now." Harry growled, astounded at the way the conversation had turned in the space of a few minutes.

At that moment, Dimitri hurried breathlessly into the room, his mobile cradled in one hand, and a pen in the other and aimed at Harry, "Harry- a hit has just been made on Elena Gavrik!"

Ruth watched as Harry's face turned white. Harry himself felt as if his heart had just stopped, and he tried to process the information, "What?

"Someone just tried to kill Ilya Gavrik's wife." Dimitri clarified.

Harry began to hurry from the room. In the corner of his eye, he saw Ruth open her mouth to speak, and he growled in her direction, "Ruth, if you utter one more word about Coaver, or claim he is behind this, you're bloody fired. Just go home!"

And with those harsh words, she watched as he darted from the room and practically fled towards the pods, shoving on his large black coat in the process. Hurt, angry and humiliated at his words, she shook her head at Dimitri's concerned looks, picked up her stack of files on Coaver and the whole Berlin situation and shoved them in to her bag. Deciding to take Harry's words literally, Ruth turned on her heel, biting back her tears, and headed towards to pods. She fiddled in her pockets and felt her fingers come in to contact with the small metallic device Tariq had pressed into her hand the night before. She had completely forgotten about it, in her grief, but through her current anger, she could not bring herself to reveal it to anyone, least of all Harry. So she took the small object, briefly strode back towards her desk, opened the draw and locked the metallic device inside. Feelings now overwhelming, she felt the tears start to dribble, so she hurried towards the pods; avoiding a concerned Dimitri and Erin, she exited the grid.

**Things are about to hot up now, and Harry's loyalties are really going to be tested. But who will he choose? Please review and you'll find out...:)**


	10. Chapter 10

**A shortish chapter here, but a very important chapter is coming up next- so many things will be tied in. Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews :)**

Harry pushed past the security that was swarming on the stairs of the hotel where the Gavriks' were staying, revealing his ID badge here and there when necessary. He was slightly out of breath, and his heart was thumping madly underneath his pristine suit; partly due to his shock when Dimitri had told him of the attempt on Elena's life, and partly due to his fear that he had finally pushed Ruth too far. He realised she had only been trying to help, but he had been unable to prevent his temper when she had retorted angrily at him. She had apparently grown accustomed to questioning his decisions, and it was not only this that annoyed him, but the argument had also spanned out of the constant tension that surrounded them these days. He was left without a doubt that she would now leave and go to Towers. Maybe it was better for her anyway.

And then finding out about Elena's attempted attack had been the final straw. As he climbed the flight of stairs, his mind flitted through all that had happened in Berlin- the affair, Elena confessing the pregnancy, and his attempts to get both her and his unborn child out of the country. Praying she was alright, he rapped on the room door loudly, and to his surprise Ilya Gavrik came to the door.

For a few seconds both men stared at each other, mirroring their shocked expressions, before Harry forced himself into recovery and said smartly, "I wouldn't have thought a man of your position would be playing at being the doorman."

Gavrik smiled, perhaps a little coldly, "If you think I am having any old person be in this room, and answer the door, after what has just happened you are sincerely mistaken."

Harry smiled in return, but both men could tell there was dislike in the other's eyes.

"What are you doing here Harry Pearce?" Ilya asked coldly. "I did not make it common knowledge that my wife had been attacked."

Harry looked past Ilya's slim figure into the luxurious room behind him and saw Elena perched on the edge of the sofa, pale but otherwise unharmed. He inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well Ilya, my section and I are in charge of protecting you and Elena whilst you are in this country, and negotiations are taking place. If something like this happens-"

"You are not doing your job very well." Ilya finished.

Harry did not deign to reply to this.

"I need to speak to Elena about the assassination attempt."

"Why?"

"It is alright Ilya, I had someone contact MI5- let him in." Elena's silky voice drifted through the crack in the door, and Ilya stared at Harry for a moment longer before acquiescing and stepping aside to let him in. Ilya made to follow him, but Harry turned round and said:

"I need to speak with her privately."

"Why?" Ilya said quickly and immediately suspicious.

"Protocol." Harry lied shortly, but Ilya seemed to reluctantly accept this, and gathered his coat from the arm of the beige sofa, before heading over the Elena to kiss her on the lips and cheek briefly. Harry was surprised to discover this did not actually bother him one bit, and he watched patiently as Ilya whispered something in Elena's left ear, and then left the suite; muttering about a business meeting.

Harry did not say anything for a moment, but he analysed the room, checking automatically for any bugging or camera devices, and he turned round to lock the door.

"There's no CCTV or bugs if that is what you were wondering." Elena smiled. "We made sure of it for the talks."

Harry nodded once before joining her on the sofa. He gazed at her pale face, which contrasted greatly with her elegant red hair. Even after an assassination attempt she looked perfect and pristine.

"I got here as fast as I could when my officer told me."

"It is a pity you did not get here sooner; you could have avoided Ilya. I contacted your department straight afterwards. I needed to see you."

"You contacted us personally?" Harry asked worriedly. "Elena, no wonder Ilya is on the defensive. He's suspicious."

"I am sorry." Elena said quietly. "I just had to see you."

She looked at him with those stunning eyes and Harry fought with himself not to fall in to the trap. She was clearly still shaken, and he was not going to let anything disastrous happen between them, for both their sake's. They sat in another awkward silence before Harry tentatively put his hand on top of Elena's and squeezed it in a brief gesture of comfort.

"Are you alright?"

A flicker of her eyebrow told him she enjoyed the touch of the skin on his hand on hers, and he quickly removed it.

"I am alright now." She said softly. "But it was a shock. I did not know anyone was after me."

"There are two options," Harry nodded. "Either this is someone who does not like these British-Russian negotiations, and is trying to hurt you to get to Ilya, or…"

"Or it is about us?" she finished. "Someone knows about us."

Harry sighed and looked genuinely sorry at Elena, "I am sorry, I swore to protect you, and you almost got killed."

Elena's thin mouth widened in to a small smile, "It is alright Harry. You are here now- that is all that matters."

Harry smiled back gratefully, and their eyes met briefly in understanding at all that had happened between them, and all that was likely to happen. Harry jolted suddenly as he felt his mobile buzz in his left hand pocket, and he pulled out his black leather gloves to answer it. He pressed receive and listened to the familiar sound of Dimitri's voice on the other end of the line.

"Harry, Ruth left the grid an hour or so ago. She seemed pretty upset, and we really need her here."

Harry sighed in frustration, annoyed at not being able to escape the subject of Ruth. "Yes Dimitri, I sent her home. She was upset about Tariq, and she was of no use to anybody- so I told her to go home."

Harry heard Dimitri pause on the other end of the line before he said, "Right. Okay."

"Anything else?" Harry demanded, communicating his apology to Elena, via his facial expression. She shrugged to indicate she did not mind, and continued to stare at the opposite wall. Harry had noticed all those years ago, that she had such an intriguingly beautiful stare.

"Well, it's just, after last night…well…I would have thought you would want her here, out of harms wa-"

"Dimitri, contrary to whatever you may think, Ruth is not on the top of my priority at the moment." Harry was an expert at lying, and found this sentence quite convincing. Elena's rather smug look confirmed this. "She can do what she wants, for all I care. I'll see _you_ when I get back to the grid later on, and I'll see _Ruth_ when she comes back to the grid tomorrow."

With that, he ended the call, embarrassed at having to talk about Ruth like that in front of Elena, who was still sitting perched on her end of the sofa, staring at the creamy white walls. He placed his mobile on the coffee table in front of him.

"You and Ruth are not getting on?" Elena asked, not meeting his eyes.

"Don't ask," Harry mumbled. "Last night, one of our officers was killed. She saw the whole thing happen, and even after everything I've told her, she still believes Jim Coaver was masterminding the whole thing."

"The man she believes to be pretending to be you?" Elena clarified.

Harry nodded grimly, "The same. I really don't know what she's got against the man."

"Have you tried looking into him?" Elena asked. "Just to humour her."

Harry sighed, "It can't be him Elena. It just…can't be. She was just overwrought so I sent her home."

Elena nodded, and sighed suddenly, pulling her hands over her face tiredly. Harry kicked himself mentally for bombarding Elena with this after her experience that day. He smiled gently at her.

"What happened?"

Elena shrugged, "I was taking a walk around the park nearby, and someone aimed at me with a gun. A sniper?" she said, obviously having no clue what one was and she looked for clarification in Harry that this was its actual name. He nodded.

"Did you not have anyone with you?"

"My bodyguard- he got me home as fast as possible. I was so scared Harry." She said softly. "Why did they want to kill me?"

Harry could not help but to reach for her hand and squeeze it reassuringly again, "I don't know. Did they not catch whoever was firing?"

Elena shook her head, and they sat there in silence again.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Harry asked softly. "Can I get you a cup of tea?"

Elena smiled, "That would be lovely Harry. Thank you."

Harry nodded, and pushed himself up from the sofa towards the en-suite kitchen in the next room. As the sounds of him clattering around in the kitchen with mugs and spoons, and flicking on the kettle drifted through the thin plastered walls, Elena hesitated before easing herself across the cushioned sofa to where he had been sitting and picking up Harry's phone, which had been discarded on the coffee table minutes before. Once she had finished double checking Harry was not going to come out at any moment, she quickly and expertly typed in a number on the keypad and listened to it ring for a few seconds before the person on the other end picked up.

"It's me." She said softly, so that Harry could not hear her. "Yes he's here. And he sent her home, so she'll either be there now, or be arriving shortly." She listened for a few more seconds as she was provided with further instructions. "Yes. I'll do it now."

With that she ended the call, and began to type something into the keypad before she placed it back in the position it had been in, almost precisely, a minute beforehand. She returned to her place on the sofa, and it was almost as if she had not moved as Harry retuned to the room loaded with two mugs of steaming hot tea, whilst she sat rigidly on the sofa as usual, staring at the wall.

* * *

><p>Ruth trudged home miserably; she had left her umbrella at Thames House, in her haste to leave after the confrontation with Harry, and so her hair was sopping wet, and dangling in front of her face. She clutched her drenched black woollen coat around herself, and heaved her enormous bag back over her shoulder. The bus ride home had not done anything to cheer her up either, as of course she had chosen the time at which High School teenagers were sidling home. So the bus had been cramped and damp from the rain outside, and she had had to stand up for the whole of the 45 minute journey-although it took an hour and a half in the rush hour- squashed between two much taller, burly sixth-formers.<p>

She was utterly exhausted and could barely find the willing to walk up her garden path to unlock the door, but the thought of the warmth and the dry inside was inviting so she forced herself on. Ruth fumbled with the lock, pushed open her door and stepped inside. Then closing the door abruptly behind her, she dropped her bag heavily on to the hallway floor, and shuffled in the general vicinity of the kitchen; vague ideas of a cup of tea floating through her mind.

Ruth peeled off her drenched coat, placed it on the back of a wooden chair in the kitchen, and moved to fill the kettle with tap water, before flicking it on to boil. Subconsciously, as she waited for it to boil, she noticed how the water dripping from her sopping wet coat onto her tiled floor matched the pattern of the rain drops spattering on the windows and roof. Desperate to stop the aching of her feet, and body in general, Ruth pulled out another wooden chair, and collapsed into it gratefully. After a few seconds, she found the strength to reach down and unzip and remove her boots, which joined the drenched coat on the chair. Closing her eyes appreciatively for a couple of seconds, she listened to kettle as it came to boil, and gripped the edge of the table to lift herself to her feet. Yet she suddenly heard the buzzing of a nearby phone, and realised it was the one in the breast pocket of her coat. Sighing, she prayed it was not any members of the grid demanding she travelled back to the grid this minute for a national emergency; she reached into her pocket and pulled the device out. Ruth's eyes and mouth widened slightly, as she stared at the cold device in her hands. Yet at that moment, it seemed to feel warm and soothing. She closed her mouth, and felt a slight wave of comfort, and even happiness wash over her. Her eyes flitted over the text message several times, to ensure she had read it correctly.

_Sorry about today. We were both angry. I'm coming over to talk after I've finished business on the grid- Harry_

Ruth, although completely shattered, if not still a little angry at Harry for his attitude towards her earlier, found her mouth twisting into a small smile all the same. It occurred to her briefly that she did not think she had ever received a text message from Harry, or even seen him send one, but then she considered, Harry was a very unpredictable man. It was not as if they had called each other in recent days either- you never know, she thought, he may have learnt how to text. Feeling a little more cheery, she placed her mobile on to the kitchen table, and hoisted herself up to pour the boiled water from the kettle into the mug. As she turned back round a few seconds later, her mug filled to the brim with soothing, steaming tea, she realised with an unhappy jolt that the last time she had entered this house, Tariq had still been alive. She had not been home in 48 hours, having spent the majority of the previous night, and the early hours of the morning in the hospital, demanding information on Tariq's condition. She had then spent the remainder of the time calling relevant people, and sitting with glazed eyes staring at her terminal on the grid, wishing she could convince herself it had all been some horrible nightmare.

Not wanting to refill her head with thoughts and realisations of her loss, Ruth padded back through to the hall, and pulled out a various assortment of files- mostly on Jim Coaver. Deciding to occupy herself with work, she found her way to the living room and seated herself comfortably on the squashy sofa, and began to read. She had made very little progress with the first page, of the first file when a knocking on the door echoed through the walls and doors of the house. Ruth froze and listened for the sharp rap on the wooden door again, knowing all too well who that would be. As anticipated, Harry knocked again, but there was no impatience in the knock, and no anger- it was calm and controlled. Fervently glad of this, Ruth placed her mug on the nearby coffee table, after shifting aside some the well-used books that lay there, and began to move towards the door. She travelled through the hallway, hastily tidying things away and moving her enormous bag under the large mirror that hung on the left wall by the door. Ruth dragged her fingers through her wet, tangled hair before shaking her head and realising she looked a mess anyway. Slowly, she unbolted the door, and twisted the handle to open it. She opened the door fully, and looked up, expecting to see Harry's face, but before her mind registered it was not him, an enormous, resilient hand grabbed her forcefully by the throat , and flung her back inside.

**What is Ruth's fate? Who has just appeared at her door? Will Harry come to her rescue? What was Elena doing, and what is she up to? Please review :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**WARNING- VERY M (MATURE) RATED AND NOT FOR THE FAINT HEARTED OR CHILDREN! **

**Do not read if you find M rated stories inappropriate or disturbing. Thank you to all you kind reviewers :) This chapter is very emotionally heavy, but don't lose hope because after hurt there is always love and consumation ;) (along with a good plot)! Please R&R**

Stunned by the sudden movement, Ruth crashed painfully to the wooden floor beneath her. She felt her head crack against the leg of the oak table near the doorway, and it took her a few seconds to realise that her vision was slightly blurry as a result of it. Through the fog of it all, she saw the body of the hand that had grabbed her appear in its entirety, drawing closer and closer to her. Ruth automatically began to shuffle backwards away from its frightening blurred outline. Now trembling and panicky, Ruth attempted to leap up and dash towards the kitchen in search of a sharp object to protect herself with, but the body grabbed her, forcing her to the floor once again. Terrified, Ruth found herself staring into cruel dark black eyes. As her vision began to gradually return, she saw that it was a man, whose body was dangerously close to hers as she lay panting on the hallway floor. His head was covered with a standard black balaclava, jacket and trousers. Ruth was steeling herself to prepare to put up a fight, when she realised three more men had entered the house, all dressed in the same attire. One closed the door, and they all loomed perilously towards her. Petrified, Ruth tried to struggle off the floor, but the first, muscle-bound man had moved his large, strong hands to pin her wrists to the floor. He was almost on top of her, as his own legs pinned hers to the ground. Ruth screamed in desperation.

"Let me go! Please let me go!"

"Go search for it."

The man gripping her painfully to the ground moved his head to indicate to the other men to enter the other rooms of the house. They immediately split to carry out their search. As Ruth continued to struggle against the tight bonds of flesh on top of her, she heard crashing sounds, as the men turned her house upside down.

"Where is it?"

Despite her panic, Ruth realised the voice behind the balaclava was distinctly American. Too frightened, and in too much pain to reply, Ruth struggled to push against the heavy man. He gave an angry snort of impatience, and squeezed her wrists and pressed against her body so tightly Ruth cried out- he was pressing so hard against her chest and abdomen, she could not breathe.

"Impudent bitch- where is it?" he growled in her ear.

Ruth felt tears come streaming down her cheeks; terrified and still struggling to breathe, Ruth tried with all her might to push him off her. Still, he would not budge, but he squeezed her even tighter. Desperate, Ruth cried out:

"Please get off me!"

"No." She sensed a note of pleasure in her captor's voice, and she felt a wave of overwhelming nausea.

"Please…"Ruth tried to breathe. "You're…crushing my…"

The man gave another impatient grunt, quickly removed one hand from her wrist and balled it into a fist. He hit her repeatedly in the face, until she stopped pleading, her skin was black and blue, and her lip was bleeding profusely. At this point, though she told herself she needed to be brave, Ruth found her tears uncontrollable, and the fear was overwhelming.

"I'll ask you one more time," the man sneered dangerously quietly down her ear. "Where is it?"

"Please," Ruth cried. "Please I…I don't…know what you're-"

Suddenly one of the other men marched out of the living room clutching the files she had been working on in one gloved hand. He handed them to the other, whose eyes flicked over them. He began to turn his attention back to Ruth, but she took opportunity of his diverted attention and forced her leg up in one swift motion, so that it made contact with his groin. He gave a yelp of pain, and she scrambled away from him, and once again tried to make it to the kitchen. However, the other man caught up with her easily and dragged her to the floor again. Her previous captor, who was still clutching his groin, crawled on top of her, and growled at her:

"Give us the information chip you little bitch!"

It suddenly clicked with Ruth what it was they were after, and terror flooded through her as she realised the very thing they were looking for was where she had left it- inn her top drawer, at Thames House. As the muscled man above her continued to rub his groin, now in anticipation, Ruth realised just exactly what her fate was going to be, whether she gave the information or not. She tried to force herself to stop the tears which were flooding uncontrollably down her battered face, and closed her eyes tightly. She pictured Harry, pressing her against the wall on the grid, harsh, but so very gently and proudly telling her she was a 'born spook'.

"I don't know what you mean." Ruth lied quietly, tears still continuing to dribble down her cheeks. She prayed she as wrong about what he was about to do. She prayed it would not hurt. She tried to move her hands to protect her abdomen, which he was still pressed against, but with no prevail.

The other men were starting to crowd around now, and though she could not see the rest of his face, Ruth could see by the contort of the balaclava that her captor's face was stretching into a nasty smile.

"You know I was kinda hoping you wouldn't." he said massaging his groin, so that he was almost stroking it now. "Cos we've got a little message for you, and your precious Harry Pearce."

Fear rose up in Ruth as they all began to loom towards her. She realised he could not do it. Overwhelming fear flooded through her as she realised she could not lie there and take it bravely, like Harry would have told her to do. Harry was not there to help her anymore. No one even knew what was happening to her, and that frightened her so much. She was on her own.

"Please…"she began, tears flowing fast. "Please don't-"

But she was cut short by the man who straddled himself on top of her, so that she could feel his soaking clothes from the rain outside, and, aided by all three of the other men; they began to rip her clothes off. Ruth struggled against his bruising grip on her wrists, and this time, raised her head to bite his hand. This earned her extra punches to the face and breasts. Ruth cried out, as they all removed her bra and pants, revealing herself completely and humiliatingly to them all. In true fashion of a wolf pack and their pray, they all began to squabble over who would take her first. It was her main captor who came out on top, and they all agreed on a number for who could go next, as if it were a mere playground game. He also stripped off his belt and trousers, and pulled down his boxers.

"Please…" Ruth begged futilely, as he crawled up her.

No one heard her repeated screams of excruciating agony and extreme distress as he rammed himself brutally inside her, nor the ones that followed for hours on end, as the other three proceeded to follow suite. The neighbours were all at work, and passers by heard nothing but the spattering of the rain against the pavement. By the time the neighbours had returned home, all was deadly quiet inside the house. The men had gone; taken the files with them, and left their victim lying on the cold of the wooden floorboards.

* * *

><p>Ruth laid quietly, tears still silently cascading down her cheeks and dripping one by one onto the wooden floor. As the men had left, telling her to pass onto Harry to leave things alone, they had in turn, finally left <em>her<em> alone. She could not bear to move, as each time she did, even if it was a mere twitch, it was excruciating agony. For a while after they had left her, she had laid there and sobbing and crying out in frustration at her helplessness in the situation, but now she felt there was no more crying to be done. She felt weaker than she had ever been before; she had not the energy to even rage against the memories that continuously replayed themselves around her head.

Since it hurt whenever she moved, and she was not expected at work until the following morning, Ruth closed her eyes and decided that passing out on the floor seemed like quite a good plan. But then the pain in the lower regions kept returning, even more painful than the minute before, and she knew she desperately needed help.

Gritting her teeth to stop herself from whimpering, she moved her hand up to her now stiff face, and wiped away the remaining tears. Ruth forced herself to stop crying, and tried to put her brain into some sort of order. For a minute the only thing she could think about was the image of all four of the men on top of her; the unbearable pain. Gradually, she forced herself to remember where she had left her mobile after arriving hours earlier. It may well have been years earlier.

Ruth remembered dropping her phone onto the kitchen table, and she gritted her teeth in preparation for the pain she was about to experience tying to reach the kitchen. This time she could not stop herself from whimpering as she levered herself up from the floor, but her legs were too fragile and wobbly to hold her weight and she fell in a heap of the floor. It was then Ruth noticed, rather than felt, the large patch of scarlet blood on the carpet. Everywhere hurt so much, she had not really noticed a particular part of her body bleeding considerably more than any other. Yet as she moved her hand downwards she felt warm blood come into contact with her fingers, and she felt tears come up once again.

Ruth forced them down once again, and managed to drag herself very slowly on her knees towards the kitchen. Each short distance was unbearable, but she kept going on her telling herself that it would be over soon. Ruth shivered as her bare, bruised skin came into contact with the cold stone tiles of the kitchen floor. As she reached the table, she gripped the edge and dragged herself up painfully, and found her phone. As her fingers lost contact with the edge of the table, she fell to the floor with a cry. Ruth lay there for a few seconds panting, before she raised the phone slowly, and began to press the digits of the first number that came to mind.

* * *

><p>Harry finished drying the white porcelain tea mugs that had been used hours before, and placed them carefully back into the equally pristine white cupboard. Elena stood watching him from the doorway, that look of adoration in her eyes. Harry busied himself with the drying up for fear of falling into that trap once again. Yet as he had put the last mug away, he realised he did not have any more means for distraction, and so turned to smile at her. She smiled back and moved towards him, her heels clicking on the clean marble floor.<p>

"Thank you Harry," she said softly. "But I did not ask you to act as a slave for me."

Harry shrugged, "I was glad to do it." He replied honestly.

He tried to not let his chest constrict as she placed her hands on his chest; one hand was directly over his heart. She stopped and felt it beat for a few seconds, before looking up at him.

"I know you tried everything to get me out of Russia, when you found out about Sasha. You tried everything to protect me, but your people wouldn't allow it."

Harry nodded silently, yet a small part of him could not help feeling regret at not doing more all those years ago. She had been carrying his child, and he had left her and Sasha to the Russians, and a husband who, had he found out about her 'liaisons' with him, would have killed her for sure. "I should have done more."

Elena looked surprised at this comment, but she smiled, "No, you did your best. It was a difficult time, and we all did what we had to do."

Harry nodded gratefully, and attempted to break away from her, but she was still holding onto him. He forced himself to look into those eyes and was discomforted to see desire there.

"Elena-" he began.

However, before he could finish his sentence, Harry heard the distinct beeping of his phone from the other room. He had left his jacket there, and, if he remembered rightly, left his phone on the coffee table. He looked down at Elena who moved away from him, almost as soon as he did, smiling in understanding. His phone was still ringing incessantly. Harry considered for a moment turning it off, yet after last night, he conceded it was better to answer it. There was no point in taking risks.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I'd better-"

Elena nodded slightly, and he slipped past her into the living room. He spotted his phone lying on the same spot where he had left it, strode over to it, and pressed the receive button.

"Yes?"

For a moment, he thought he heard silence, for there were certainly no words being said. He frowned, and checked the caller ID. It was Ruth.

"Ruth?"

He was about to ask snappishly if the call was absolutely necessary but Harry then noticed heavy breathing. Now that he listened, he heard her familiar breathing pattern down the phone, although something was not quite right. The breathing seemed to be very strained, as if she was struggling somehow, and every so often he made out several whimpering noises. Her breathing caught suddenly, and he heard a slight cry from her end of the phone. Harry's heart went cold and he went on alert immediately.

"Ruth, what is it?"

Still there came no reply, just the same laboured breathing, and Harry struggled not to panic.

"Ruth, is something wrong?"

He heard a gargling sound, as if she was trying or preparing to speak, but was struggling with the action. Harry then recognised the spasmodic hiccough that went through her and down the phone; a tell tale sign that she was crying silently. Harry struggled not to shout down the phone at her. With shaky breathing, he said as calmly as possible:

"Please talk to me Ruth. What's wrong?"

Almost as soon as he had finished speaking, he heard her say in such a heartbreakingly small, hoarse voice, "Harry." The roughness in the voice told him she had not spoken for hours, except for crying. He knew Ruth was terribly proud and would never call him in this state unless something was very wrong, and his instincts told him something _was_ very wrong. Her worryingly small voice and the sounds of her distress every so often, frightened him.

"Ruth, are you hurt?"

Another spasm of a cry came from down the phone, and he thought his heart was going to beak.

"Are you in pain?" he asked desperately.

This time, he heard the gargling sound again, and this time she spoke so softly, as if in great pain, "Please…please…Harry."

Her pleading was enough to shake him out of his standing position; he grabbed his coat, and dashed towards the door.

"Harry," he registered Elena's voice from somewhere behind him. "Harry what is wrong? Where are you going?"

Harry did not even look at her; all his attention remained on Ruth's laboured breathing down the phone. It was growing heavier and heavier and he suspected she was almost ready to pass out.

"I've got to go." He directed at Elena, who looked shocked, but thankfully asked no more questions, and did not stop him as he all but ran from the room. He promptly hurried down the luxurious staircase, taking two steps at a time.

"No…please…d…don't…" Ruth struggled, apparently thinking he had been talking to her.

Harry could not fight his panic and fear at this point, and he said as calmly as he could, "I won't leave you, I promise you Ruth. Where are you? I'm on my way."

Ruth did not reply for a second, which set his heart pounding so hard he thought it might burst. "Where are you?" he repeated. "Are you at home?"

"…Yes." She said after another lengthy pause. "Please…help-"

He heard a loud thud, and after several attempts to contact Ruth, his heart went colder still as he realised she must have dropped the phone on to the floor, before finally passing out. Harry swore loudly, ignoring the gaping mouths of the men at the reception as he made his way out of the hotel. He reluctantly disconnected the call to Ruth, and swiftly dialled another number. Thankfully Dimitri picked his phone up within seconds.

"Dimitri, call an ambulance and get to Ruth's house now."

Dimitri, who had not even uttered a word, seemed to get the message, "Harry is she in trouble?"

"I think she is. Do it now." Harry said shortly, and too disconnected the other call. He threw his mobile back into his pocket, as he stepped inside his car, and turned to ignition on.

* * *

><p>Harry reached Ruth's house within minutes, and he stopped so quickly the tyres screeched painfully against the curb. As he threw himself out of the car, he saw Dimitri pull up behind him, and also get out quickly.<p>

"I got here as fast as I could." He said. "I also called Erin, but she went home hours ago to Rosie. What's going on?"

"I don't know." Harry growled, not having time for anything except getting to Ruth inside the house. "Did you call an ambulance?"

"Yes why?" Dimitri added with a note of impatience, but Harry did not reply, and he hurried along the pathway to Ruth's front door. He noticed that lights were on at the front of the house in the hallway and the living room, and also apparently in the kitchen. Harry tested the door gingerly and felt his fear deepen as he found that it was unlocked and swung open as soon as he knocked against it. He looked sideways at Dimitri, who nodded and drew out his gun from the holster on his belt, and aimed it straight ahead of him. Harry stepped inside and almost vomited from the sight that befell him. Deep scarlet red blood stained the wooden hallway floor in large smears. His eyes travelled along the floor and discovered yet more blood, which then continued in a trail along the ground into the kitchen beyond. It looked as if someone had been injured and dragged themselves along the floor. Despite the phone call minutes earlier, Harry prayed it was not Ruth who had suffered this fate. The thought of her bleeding spurred him on and he followed the trail of blood into the kitchen.

As his eyes finally fell upon her, Harry knew for sure that his heart had just broken. Ruth was lying naked, curled in a foetal position on the cold stone tiled floor, with her back turned to them. Although he did not know if she was conscious or not, she was definitely breathing from the heavy rise and fall of her body and he knew immediately what had happened. The mottled bruising covering her back, arms, and thighs were enough, and Harry almost retched in horror as he spotted blood dribbling down her legs. He balled his fists in anger as he saw that the trail of blood led to this exact point. He spotted the remnants of Ruth's clothes lying teasingly and ripped in a heap next to the door. He heard Dimitri career into the room behind him and swear loudly.

Harry had to force himself to Ruth's side, not wanting to see the damage in its entirety. Slowly, Harry fell onto his knees and not wanting to move her, crawled round to the other side of her. As suspected, the damage was even worse in terms of bruises, and her body held several small cuts. He involuntarily glanced down at her lower body and looked away almost as soon as he had done so. Ruth's beautiful dark hair was splayed out over her battered face, although it barely concealed the beads of sweat from the task of reaching the kitchen and calling him. Harry spotted the phone lying a few inches away from her left hand which was laid away from the rest of her body. Ruth's eyes were closed, and her breathing still seemed to be quite laboured.

Harry made several attempts at summoning his voice before he said so softly, "Ruth?"

Ruth's head twitched slightly in response, but she did not open her eyes. Harry's heart was beating off the scale now, and his breathing was nothing short of erratic. He glanced up at Dimitri who was standing there in wide-eyed shock. Harry could not bear for anyone to see Ruth like this, and he said to Dimitri:

"Go and hurry up that ambulance, and shove some things in a bag for her to take to the hospital."

Dimitri, sensing Harry's agony nodded, pulled out his phone and headed for the stairs. As he heard Dimitri's footsteps on the middle stairs, Harry turned his full attention back to the woman in front of him. He said her name again, and this time got no response at all, so he moved to ever so gently push some of the obscuring hair away from her face. At his touch, Ruth's head flinched and with a small cry she tried to move out of his reach.

"No…please don't." she whimpered in a heartbreakingly small voice.

"Ruth it's Harry."

Harry now felt tears brimming in his eyes- at her pain; with anger at those who did this to her, but he wiped them away in frustration, telling himself he had to be strong for her. He tried not to think about what they had done to her, how long they had made her suffer, and how long she had been in this state before she finally decided to call him. Gently, ever so gently, so he would not frighten her, Harry gently reached out and placed the tips of his fingers in Ruth's outstretched palm. Ruth's eyes flew open and she moved her head with difficultly to search for the source of contact. After a few seconds her eyes focused on Harry's hand resting lightly on her own, and her eyes travelled upwards to meet his. Harry saw such desperation and vulnerability in those eyes that he could not look away, and they stared at each other in recognition for a few seconds. Harry felt Ruth's hand move to hold his more securely, and he took her hint and enclosed his own considerably larger hand around hers. In the only gesture of comfort he could provide at that moment, Harry squeezed her hand gently, and felt both fear and relief when she applied only limited pressure back.

Ruth suddenly moved to try and conceal herself from Harry; with such shame in her eyes it broke Harry's heart even further. He stopped her almost immediately with another brief squeeze of the hand. Not wanting to leave her to fetch a blanket, he shrugged off his coat with his free hand and placed it over her, so that she was no longer displayed humiliatingly in front of him. After this, and with his hand in hers to provide some comfort, he noticed her haunted expression become more calmed. He sat with her until he heard the ambulance sirens outside.

Minutes later, he watched as Dimitri entered the room with three paramedics, who all immediately crowded around Ruth. Ruth, who for the past few minutes had grown comfortable with Harry's presence, looked away from him and noticed the three male paramedics all closing in on her. She gave a cry as one of them began lifting Harry's coat away from her body, and parting her legs to assess the damage, and she frantically tried to shuffle away from them. She felt Harry give another squeeze on her hand and she looked up at him pleadingly, with desperation in her eyes.

"Harry." She said in a small voice.

Harry was about to tell the paramedics to be more gentle, when one of them turned and pulled his hand out of Ruth's. Ruth immediately became distressed, as her only source of comfort had been ripped away from her, and she cried out blindly for him.

"Harry!"

Harry moved to retake his reassuring grip on her hand, when the same paramedic snatched it away again, and said: "Sorry sir, you're distressing her."

Harry immediately felt anger rise up in waves through him; the hatred toward those who had done this to Ruth coming to the forefront. "I think you will find it's you that is upsetting her, and the fact that you won't let me near her!"

At this point, the other two paramedics lifted the coat off Ruth entirely, wrapped a foil blanket carefully around her and lifted her on to an awaiting stretcher. Harry followed her as they deposited her into to the ambulance outside, Dimitri following concernedly in his wake. He was relieved to find that the paramedic inside the ambulance was a woman, and she was now attempting to placate a hysterical Ruth.

"Dimitri, follow us in your car." Harry said, not turning to his officer and stepping into the ambulance next to Ruth. The female paramedic seemed to have no objection to this; on the contrary she appeared to agree to anything that might calm her patient. Harry gently retook Ruth's hand, and Ruth looked quickly at him. He saw a sort of relief in her eyes as she recognised his presence once again.

"Can you tell us your name?" the female paramedic asked Ruth kindly, as one of the male paramedics stepped into the ambulance and closed the door behind him. The other two took the front of the ambulance and set the vehicle into motion.

It was a mark of how distressed Ruth was that she did not reply with any caustic remark to the rather patronising question of one being able to remember ones own name.

"Ruth…Ruth Evershed." Ruth said quietly, calming herself by looking directly into Harry's comforting eyes.

"Age?"

"…Forty."

"Does anywhere hurt specifically?" she asked, as the male paramedic noted all of this down on a clipboard.

Ruth looked fearfully down her body and then moved her eyes back to Harry, unable to answer the question. Harry stroked her freezing hand once again, but the nurse seemed to understand, and she smiled kindly.

"When you get to the hospital, they're going to have to examine you, and to do that they need to know if you have any allergies to any medications."

Ruth shook her head in reply, her eyes still fixed on Harry's.

"Are you on any other medication at the moment?"

Again, Ruth shook her head. Harry did not understand why a sudden fear had risen up in her eyes, and he tried to ask her silently through his own.

"Have you been sexually active recently?" the female paramedic asked.

At Ruth's even more distraught expression, Harry's head shot up and he glared at the considerably younger woman, "What sort of insensitive question is that after all she's been through tonight?" he asked furiously.

"We need to know it for her own good sir." The younger woman said levelly.

"How recently?" Harry demanded, looking down at Ruth, who was now so distressed that tears were beginning to slip down her cheeks again.

"Within the last few months."

Ruth let out a spasmodic hiccough, similar to the one he had heard on the phone, and her eyes met Harry's again, which told the nurse all. Harry felt almost as distressed as she was. "Isn't that enough of the questions?" he asked coldly.

"We just have one more." The paramedic replied calmly, looking down at Ruth. Harry did the same, feeling utterly helpless at being able to help the poor woman next to him. The young paramedic continued, "To your knowledge, are you are pregnant?"

Harry watched as Ruth looked up at him in despair, tears falling thick, fast and uncontrollably down her cheeks, and gasped, "Yes."

**Dun dun dun...Aahh all this angst and hurt! Don't worry- I promised you some love and tenderness next did I not? I'm sorry to poor Ruth. I just thought that Harry and Ruth's relationship has always been about timing and is more or less at its peak when they're looking out for eachother or saving one another's lives e.g. Cotterdam, Albany etc. I was wondering if anyone noticed the subtle hints about Ruth's pregnancy along the way in the other chapters? No wonder she's been so angry with him. Please review- they make my day xx More to come soon?**


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you so much for all the reviews for the last chapter. There were so many! Love you all :) This is a somewhat shorter chapter than the previous, with some angst, but with Harry, some of you will be glad to know, making ammends. It became longer than intended but I hope you like it anyway. Please R&R :)**

Harry sat rigidly in the white plastic chair, in utter shock and horror, and completely oblivious to the casualties passing to and fro along the corridor. Ordinarily he would have objected to spending half the night and early morning cooped up in a tiny plastic chair, in a crowded corridor, full of moaning civilians. Usually, he detested that same hospital smell- a mixture of stale urine, sickness, and strong disinfectant; a god awful combination if ever there was one. However, he would not and had not left his seat once since Ruth had been wheeled on a gurney, inside the room opposite him for examinations and treatment.

The sight of Ruth lying naked, battered and bleeding, as he had entered that kitchen, haunted and echoed through his mind; he knew it would continue to do so ever more. Harry wanted to cry himself when Ruth's frightened, desperate expression kept popping back to the forefront of his mind, but he forced himself not to do so. At least for the moment, he promised himself, he had to stay strong for Ruth's sake. She had to come first.

And if the rape was not enough, Ruth's earth-shattering revelation had shaken him deeply as well. Harry loathed himself for not considering the possibilities before. Due to the heightened levels of passion they had experienced and achieved with one another that night, neither had once considered the need for contraception. Indeed, their first coupling of the night had been quite frantic, in their haste to experience each other's bodies, and had been over within minutes. Also, Harry would have thought that at his age, it would be rather difficult for a child to be able to be conceived. Once again he had been proven wrong. Yet this had not once sprung to his mind after that wonderful night, during those months of severed contact, or even when he had finally returned to the grid. He tried hard not to get upset at the thought of Ruth discovering her pregnancy for the first time, and having to deal with it alone. Harry knew that she would be frightened of office gossip, and especially the prospect of losing her job on top of everything because she had slept with her disgraced boss- which was precisely the reason for him trying to distance himself from her in the first place. In the end, his 'master plan' had turned out worse than he ever thought possible, as Ruth had ended up pregnant anyway, and in 'protecting' her, she had ended up heartbroken. Everything seemed to suddenly fit- her not drinking alcohol at the Russian ball, rare amounts of caffeine despite her usual black coffee addiction; constant tiredness, sickness and erratic moods. However, people would certainly have noticed her size eventually, and Harry wondered just what Ruth had been planning on doing. He worked out that Ruth would be almost three months gone by now; without a word to anyone. He seriously doubted if she had even seen a gynaecologist about it. His fingernails dug deep into the pale flesh of his hands, as he vowed that he would never hurt her anymore, and he would never let her bring up their child alone. Harry's heart gave a jolt as it suddenly occurred to him that the baby may have been harmed by the attack as well.

Harry tried to block out the image of turmoil and distress in Ruth's eyes upon mentioning the pregnancy. He felt confused and distressed himself upon arrival at the hospital, when the paramedics loaded her onto a waiting gurney, and all she kept saying to him was "Sorry…I'm so sorry.", as if she thought it was all her fault. He had tried to provide her with hushed words of comfort when he could, and still held tightly to her hand, but she had become distressed when the nurses had tried lifting the blanket to reveal her body for examination, and then wrap her in a flimsy blue canvas gown until the bleeding had been properly reviewed. Even as the Doctor pressed him to leave the room, after she had been deposited onto a bed for official examination, he had refused to let go of her hand. Ruth had grown more hysterical when the male doctor had placed her legs in humiliating stirrups either side of the bed so that he could get a clear view of her injuries, and Harry had become quite frightened at her state. He had caught a glimpse of the damage, and felt nothing but unadulterated hatred and fury at whoever had done this to her, and left her to bleed. He promised himself that once Ruth was settled he would not stop until the inflictors of her attack had been silenced for good.

However, a few minutes in to the examination, one of the nurses had brought in small injection needle of sedative- just enough to calm her, but not enough to cause any harm to the baby. At first Ruth tried to fight it, and Harry had held her carefully to stop her doing so, pressing the occasional kiss to her forehead. Gradually, Ruth had calmed, and Harry continued to stroke her hair ever so gently until she drifted into unconsciousness. No longer requiring his services as a comforter to the patient, the Doctor had made sure Harry was removed from the room, and deposited on the very chair he sat now, just opposite the room. Harry had objected at first, and had a rather lovely bruise on his toe to prove his frustration, when he had aimed a furious kick at the wall just outside the door. Every so often as nurses drifted in and out providing instruments and medication for Doctor to complete his work, Harry caught glimpses of Ruth lying sedated and exhausted on the bed. The fact that he could not comfort her was doing nothing for helping him through the experience either. Then again, he thought, after everything he had done and said to her not only that afternoon, but over the recent weeks, perhaps he had no right to demand this.

"Harry." He turned in his seat as he recognised Dimitri's voice flooding down the hall, echoing through his thoughts.

Harry watched as the young officer hurried quickly up the corridor, still carrying the bag he had taken from Ruth's house with some of her belongings in, and also surprisingly accompanied by Erin. For the first time since he had been moved there, Harry stood from his seat to meet them, taking the night bag from Dimitri's hands, ready to give to Ruth when he was allowed back in.

"I thought I told you to follow the ambulance." The comment came out harsher than Harry had intended or expected, but he put it down to the intense anger he was feeling at the moment, due to Ruth's assault.

Dimitri seemed to sense this too because he made no excuse; just nodded apologetically and indicated Erin, "Just as I was setting off Erin turned up. I had to fill her in."

"I thought you were with your daughter." Harry muttered, but he felt extreme gratitude towards her for turning up anyway.

Erin shrugged, "I put her to bed then I came here as fast as could." She said firmly. Granted, she had experienced her fair share of ups and downs since joining the staff on the Grid, but she had never been able to hold any resentment against Ruth. She was possibly one of the easiest likeable people she had ever met, despite her depression in recent weeks. So upon receiving Dimitri's call, she had dashed straight to Ruth's house, where the ambulance had already gone, but Dimitri had still been there.

"You didn't have to do that." Harry said nodding his gratitude, despite his anger. "You haven't known her that long."

Erin shrugged, "That's true, but Dimitri called at about ten, so Rosie was already in bed, and I had a free night with nothing better to do."

Harry nodded again mutely, before slumping back exhaustedly in to the chair beneath him, and running his hands over his eyes.

"Harry, you should go home and get some sleep." Erin said softly, predicting the storm that was coming, but it needed to be said.

As expected, Harry swung round to glare at her and growled fiercely, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Ruth won't thank you for driving yourself to destruction." Erin reprimanded.

"Yes well, in case you hadn't noticed Ruth isn't in much of a state to do anything right now Erin." Harry snapped, louder than he intended.

Following this outburst, Erin stopped her attempts at reasoning with him, and frowned worriedly at him. "Dimitri told me what…what happened." She said slowly. "Is it that bad?"

"Yes." Harry and Dimitri both said together.

"And Erin," Harry continued, fuming at the door opposite. "You couldn't possibly have provided a more stupid question, if you had asked 'Is she okay?'."

Erin frowned, and it was her turn to fume, so she puffed out her chest to put forward her argument, when she felt Dimitri's hand on her arm and his shake of the head, telling her not to. She turned back around again to stare more closely at Harry, and felt the pain and guilt positively radiating from him. She knew for sure that the rumours she had heard before joining the grid, about her two colleagues having feelings for one another, were absolutely true. Yet it was more than that- it was not friendship, or mere feelings of lust- it could not be anything else but love.

"Can we do anything Harry?" she asked earnestly.

For a moment, Harry did not deign to respond, and he continued staring at that same white door. After a while however, he turned, his face resolutely stony and impassive, and he said monotonously:

"Yes."

"What do you want us to do?"

"I want you to catch the utter bastards who did this." He continued in a monotonous voice. Only his eyes betrayed how angry he really was.

"There was more than one?" Erin asked, shocked.

Harry now turned his gaze to the floor, and closed his eyes in internal agony, "Erin, if you'd seen her, you may well have thought there had been seven of them. One man couldn't have done that much damage."

Dimitri now looked at the floor as well; he also haunted by what he had seen upon entering that kitchen. He too felt responsible for the attack- he had tried to look out for her for months since Harry had been dismissed, and the one time he wasn't there, she had been attacked in this way.

"What are you going to do if we find them?"

"If?" Harry asked dangerously quietly.

"When." Erin amended.

Harry did not reply, but the silence was damning.

"Harry as Section Chief, I can't authorise that." Erin said firmly, but as gently as she could. "You know I can't."

"So look away." Harry growled, still with his gaze fixed resolutely to the floor.

Erin opened her mouth to speak, but felt it best not to approach the argument with him now. Not with Ruth in agony in the next room. She nodded and said, "I'll do it right away."

She held her gaze on Harry one last time, turned and nodded to Dimitri to follow her. He however, stood remaining on the spot.

"I'll be with you in a few hours." He said quietly, not at all his usual cheerful self. Tariq's death, and now this, had had rather a diminishing effect on him. "I'm going to stay here for a bit…see if Ruth is oka…well…see how she is."

Erin paused, and then nodded in understanding, before patting his arm gently and hurrying off down the corridor. Harry barely glanced up as Dimitri seated himself heavily in an available chair next to Harry. Neither of them spoke, or even looked at each other over the next couple of minutes. Dimitri noticed Harry open his mouth a couple of times, and half turn to him, as if to say something, but was unable to find the words. Then Dimitri heard Harry say so very simply, and so very quietly:

"I'm so sorry."

Dimitri looked at him, confused. Harry now turned to stare at him, and Dimitri saw nothing but genuine grief and sorrow in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry and am…disgusted at myself. I should have listened to you when you called earlier. I should have made sure Ruth was alright. I should have made sure she stayed on the grid."

"It's okay." Dimitri lied. A part of him could not help but think that Harry was also partly responsible for Ruth getting hurt; even though he could see how genuinely grievous Harry was at Ruth's attack.

"No it's not." Harry said, gritting his teeth in order to prevent himself from losing control. Dimitri pretended for Harry's sake that he had not noticed; he knew Harry always liked to be the strongest and keep his emotions tight on a leash. "You know as well as I do that I'm responsible for this."

"You didn't rape her Harry." Dimitri said softly.

"No, but I as good as handed her over to them didn't I?"

Dimitri did not reply to this, so Harry turned back around and put his face in her hands. There was another awkward moment before he continued:

"I didn't mean what I said about not caring about Ruth." Harry said suddenly, not at all sure why he was telling his subordinate this.

Another pause came before Dimitri replied, "I know."

"I do care about her Dimitri." Harry said, wondering if he would regret mentioning this later on. "So much."

"You love her." Dimitri answered. It was not a question asking for affirmation; it was a statement.

Harry looked surprised that Dimitri knew this, before he recovered himself and nodded. Without warning he slammed his hand against his thigh in fury.

"I'm supposed to bloody love her, and I let this happen." Harry said to himself angrily, balling his fists into his palms.

Dimitri looked at him, "What are you looking for Harry? Forgiveness?"

Harry seemed a little taken aback by such a comment from the usually loyal, cheeky Dimitri. He shook his head sadly. "The only forgiveness I want is from Ruth. And I don't know if she can forgive me for any of this."

Dimitri opened his mouth to reply, when he saw Harry leap to his feet, just as a doctor, possibly in his mid-forties, open the door quietly, and shut it gently behind him. In the brief gap between the door and the frame, Dimitri saw Ruth lying in a bad way on the bed, hooked up to a saline drip. He swallowed.

"I want to see her." Harry demanded as soon as the Doctor approached him. His anger at having been removed from the room earlier covered, quite convincingly, the fear of the grave look in the Doctor's eyes.

"Well you can soon." The Doctor said smartly, not intimidated in the slightest, and popping a silver pen into his breast pocket. "I've finished examining her, and we've completed a few tests, and swabs to check for STDs and such. The results should come back in a few hours. I've prescribed her some light painkillers, which shouldn't cause any disturbance with the baby."

At this last comment, Dimitri's eyes widened in shock, but he said nothing.

"She is in quite a lot of pain, but if she asks for something stronger, I'm afraid we can't really give it to her, for the baby's sake."

"Have you checked to see if the baby's alright?" Harry asked desperately.

"Not yet," the younger man replied. "But we will do so in about an hour or so. We're optimistic though; there doesn't seem to be too much pain in the abdomen, and she's only in her first trimester. The only thing I would say," he continued, as Harry ignored Dimitri's open mouth. "Is that the painkillers coupled with the sickness she's already experiencing at the moment due to the pregnancy, she is going to be really quite poorly."

"Have the bas…the people responsible…caused her any lasting damage?" Harry asked quickly.

The Doctor looked a little solemn at this, "Physically, I think she'll be alright in time. Emotionally…well…you can imagine." Harry nodded. "If she wants, we have a specialist here that can talk to her about trying to overcome an attack like this."

Harry nodded, but was not really taking any of this in. He knew exactly the effect it would have on Ruth. He moved to get past the Doctor to open the door, but he was stopped for a moment as the younger man said, "It's not strictly right that we should let non-family members in at this stage though. Does she not have any family we can contact? Anyone at all?"

Harry felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach at that question. It dawned on him that poor Ruth was alone in the world. She had no one. "No." Harry said quietly. "She has no one."

The Doctor sighed, still reluctant to let him in. "How about a partner? The baby's father perhaps?"

This made Harry feel all the more awful, and he had could not help but look away as he said quietly, "No partner as such. And…" Harry wished desperately he had been able to say this under entirely different circumstances, perhaps even married to Ruth. Harry wanted Dimitri to stop gawping, and felt dreadful now that he was shooting accusatory glances at him. "…And I am the baby's father."

The Doctor paused for a moment, as if trying to work out if this pea was genuine or not. He eventually seemed to be convinced, because he stepped aside and allowed Harry to pass.

"Be quiet." He said, nodding in understanding. "We've still got her under sedation, but she'll be easily disturbed. It's best to let her rest."

Harry nodded gratefully and watched the Doctor walk up the corridor and talk to a young nurse at Reception, occasionally pointing to notes on a clipboard in her hand. Dimitri could have said something, but Harry was very thankful that he did not; he merely sat back down and indicated with his head that Harry should go in alone first. Harry gave another grateful nod in his direction and turned to face the door.

* * *

><p>His legs felt incredibly stiff and shaky, and fear flooded agonisingly through him at just exactly what state he would find her in. Swallowing hard, and steadying his trembling breath, Harry turned the metallic handle of the door and opened it quietly. Before he could even take a look inside the room, waves of sweet, cool air flushed against his warm skin, and he caught sight of the air conditioner directly above him in the doorway. Steeling himself to look around the room, Harry moved his neck downwards from looking at the ceiling and stared around the room. Harry's heart started hammering almost immediately with both love and guilt as he spotted her lying there, sleeping quite peacefully. The first thing he noticed was that her legs had thankfully been removed from those awful stirrups, as the Doctor had apparently finished his work, and had joined her under the covers on the bed. Although the creamy bed clothes had been tucked warmly around her, Harry still caught a glimpse of the flimsy blue canvas gown they had placed her in, upon her arrival. He did not fail to notice that some parts of it were sickeningly smeared with blood. Her right arm however, had not been wrapped up under the blanket, but lay delicately on top of the coverlet; a wiry tube jutting out of her hand, connecting her to the saline drip nearby the bed. Harry was relieved to see many of the cuts that had been visible before had been bandaged or stitched up, although the now yellowish bruises all over her face, neck and arms were still visible and plain to see. He closed the door behind him carefully so as not to wake her, and moved silently to the visitors chair on her right. Harry sat down and gently reached up to hold her right hand, mindful of the sticking out tube. With his thumb, he absently began to stroke tender circular patterns on her soft, dangerously pale skin, whilst analysing her thoroughly. He did not think it was possible for his heart to break even more than it did the moment he found her, but he surprised himself. It had broken so much it hurt.<p>

As he traced the painfully inflicted cuts and bruises leading up her arm, and around her face and neck, Harry found it impossible to prevent the tears fast welling up in his eyes. Although she was sleeping peacefully for now, whilst under sedation, he knew almost immediately that she was going to find it near impossible to recover from her experience. After all her emotionally draining years at MI5, Harry had recently been convinced she was on the cusp of a breakdown; it terrified him that the emotional and indeed, psychological scars inflicted mere hours ago would tip her over the edge. Harry could not bear the thought of Ruth suffering in any way, but she had been hurt in the worst way possible only a few hours ago, on his watch. His eyes travelled down her now covered body and came to rest on her still flat stomach, at which point Harry burst into helpless, silent tears.

What had he done? What had he done to her? He had fallen head over heels in love with her-that's what- and she with him. Yet typically being themselves, they had pushed each other away- to such an extent this tragedy had happened. The guilt was too much contain as Harry sat there, his fist covering his mouth to prevent any noise passing through; wet, salty tears streaming relentlessly down his cheeks, and his shoulders shaking with the sheer weight of it all. Sweet, naïve little Ruth Evershed- that's who he had to fall in love with, wasn't it? He could have loved someone else- anyone who was stronger, tougher, less caring and compassionate than herself. That way he would not care as much. But it was for some of those exact reasons he _had_ fallen for her. He had fallen for her gentleness, her innocence and her compassion, for those were things he never often saw in a person after all the years in this job. Yet he had taken a girl whose worst fear was getting fired, and damaged her to such an extent over the years that she had now ended up lying pregnant and violently raped in a hospital bed. He and his job had killed off George, an admittedly good man she may well have found happiness with. And only recently he had broken her heart with the thundering revelation that he had fathered an illegitimate child with a married Russian woman, thirty years ago. Harry did not blame her one bit for her anger as he stared once again at her stomach, and he cried even harder. He had completely eradicated the happiness he had roused within Ruth during that one beautiful, glorious night, by abandoning her pregnant and alone; and on his return, behaving like a complete bastard. No wonder she had been frightened to tell him. He was mortified that it had taken Ruth getting injured in this way to get him to realise all this. Ruth did not deserve any of this; she deserved much better than this- she deserved much better than him.

Gradually, the tears ceased and he hastily wiped them away from his face with the back of his hand, in order to rebuild the strong persona once again. He could not risk Ruth waking up and seeing him in a state, or she would become even more distressed. Harry took a few minutes to rebuild his composure, and gradually he reverted back to his normal controlled self.

**Next up we find out how Ruth's going to cope, and we see she and Harry start to really talk. Is this something Ruth can deal with and can Harry help her through it? Who was behind the attack and why did they so desperately want that information? More soon? Please review- they make my day, and enourage me to write so much faster ;) xx**


	13. Chapter 13

**I'm all cried out now after last night's episode, and I am thankful for my amazing brother who sat on the phone for an hour and a half with me last night, comforting me as I weeped. Harry and Ruth- the greatest love story- period. But at least they both knew they loved eachother by the end; Harry couldn't start a life without her, and so he goes back to the only thing he knows- the Grid- to protect the country in her name. As many of you have said, and on the Spooks Forum too- Regnum Defende!**

**But you know what? In my mind, Ruth is most cetainly not dead- and I intend on writing many more fanfics with Harry and Ruth still going strong- if anyone still wants to read them of course. And what is this? A story that I have not finished yet, which after last night, is most certainly going to finish with a happy ending. Probably ;) Below is some angst, but there is love and comfort and in the next few chapters, prepare for pure love- maybe even some fluff eventually. **

Harry did not realise he had fallen asleep until he felt something tugging on his hand. His head had gradually drooped side-on against the mattress of Ruth's bed, his hand still entwined with hers. Now, he raised his head to glimpse what had woken him, and saw Ruth awake, panicking slightly, and struggling desperately to sit up in bed, despite the weakness of her bruised limbs. She had apparently not noticed Harry sitting there with her, and accidentally tugged on his hand in the midst of trying to sit up. Her trembling breath and slight whimpers betrayed her distress, and Harry fearfully noticed that she was incredibly pale.

"Ruth? Ruth, what's wrong?"

He removed his hand from hers, and stood to help her to sit up, placing his arms under her elbows and gently raised her up against the pillows. Practically all of her weight fell against him, and he had to sit on the edge of the bed in order to prevent himself from falling over backwards. He slipped an arm around her shoulders, and tried to coax gently out of her what was the matter. When he saw her wheeze and start to retch down her front, he quickly leapt up from his place on the bed and grabbed a large papier-mâché bowl on the table on the far side of the room. He hurried back to sit with her on the bed, and with one hand, positioned the bowl carefully underneath her chin. He watched wretchedly as Ruth vomited heavily into the bowl; large quantities of phlegm, yellow substances and chunks of food were deposited from Ruth's mouth into the bowl.

Unbidden, Harry wrapped his other free arm carefully around her back and proceeded to rub it gently, whilst uttering soothing words to try and comfort her in the best way he could. Occasionally he would reach round and pull some of her damp hair back away from her face to avoid it getting layered in sick. Gradually, Harry watched as the vomiting died down, and Ruth's breathing eased slightly as she coughed up the last contents of her stomach. She turned her head away from him and the brimming contents of the bowl, with her eyes tight shut to indicate she had finished, and Harry rubbed her back a couple more times to let her know it was alright. He then carried the full bowl over to the table and left it lying there. He approached the bed again, but this time settled himself back into the chair on her right hand side, knowing that actually sitting on the bed now might frighten her or invade her space in a way she did not want. Without his strong arms supporting her, Ruth had fallen back against the pillows, her face turned away from him, and instead staring out of the window. Harry noticed now that it was quite light outside, and referenced from his watch that it was nearly half past seven in the morning. Ruth lay very still on the mattress, her head turned away, and Harry grew concerned at her quietness. Just as he had done when he had discovered her on the kitchen floor back at the house, he reached out and tentatively touched the knuckle of her right hand with his fingertips. For an instant he grew even more anxious when she did not respond, but slowly he felt her fragile fingers curl lightly around his. Harry maintained the process of holding her hand a little more tightly, though still mindful of the wire threading out of it towards the drip. Other than that, although Harry fought to think of something to say or do, he could not come up with anything. There were no words that could make light, nor comfort what had happened. Instead they sat in silence until she spoke very quietly:

"Sorry." Her voice was extremely hoarse and cracked after not having being used in hours.

Harry frowned and demanded, "Sorry for what? What can you possibly be sorry for?"

"Having just pretty much thrown up over you." She said brokenly, and Harry wished she would turn her head to face him. "For you spending your night here."

"Don't be ridiculous." Harry said, quite fiercely. "I was hardly going to just drop you off here and leave you, was I?"

Harry felt her hand tense slightly, telling him that was precisely what she would have expected him to do. He swallowed back any tears generated in that moment, and squeezed her hand gently. There was another lengthy silence before she said with such fragility and sorrow it made him want to cry:

"I feel so ashamed."

"Why?" Harry demanded, furious at hearing her talk about herself in that way.

Another pause and then, "…What happened…what they did…and then you found me and…and saw..."

"Ruth, I don't give a damn about the fact that I saw you after what they did," Harry growled. "I do give a damn that, and am very glad that you called me so that I could come and help you. You were in agony Ruth-you couldn't have helped yourself; you didn't have any choice but to call someone for help. I am…glad that it was me…even after everything I've done to you recently."

Ruth shifted slightly on the mattress, but still did not turn her head round to look at him.

"And I promise you that I _will_ find the bastards that did this. I will." Harry said fiercely. He squeezed her hand again to emphasise his point. "And you have absolutely _nothing_ to be ashamed of. Do you understand me Ruth? Nothing."

"I couldn't stop them." Ruth said hollowly, and her fingers tensed once again, as if she was trying to ball them into a fist. "I couldn't fight them off...they just…dived in-"

"Ruth-" Harry tried, desperate for her to stop, because the images she was generating in his head were too painful to even think of.

"-They wouldn't stop…I begged them to stop…and it…it hurt too much-"

"Ruth please." Harry begged softly.

"-And they all laughed. All of them when it was their turn…laughed when…when the blood ca-"

"Enough Ruth." Harry said sharply, not just for his sake, but for hers as well. He supposed he ought to consider it a good thing that she was no longer crying, but he was deeply concerned at the lost, hollow tone to her voice. Ruth became silent immediately at the sharp note in his voice, but at the same time, she tensed and began to automatically remove her hand from his tightened grip.

"It's alright," Harry hushed gently, cursing himself inwardly. He held her hand with both of his now, and traced soothing patterns on her pale skin. "It's alright." He felt Ruth relax a tiny bit, and thankfully she no longer attempted to pull away. Harry slowly eased one hand from hers and reached up to tenderly stroke her hair at the back of her head, in an attempt to assure that she could turn around without coming to any harm. At first he noticed her head bow a little, and curl inwardly towards the rest of her body; a slight flinch to move away from his touch, but then she gradually brought it back up and allowed herself to be gently placated by Harry's hand.

"Ruth you've been through utter hell these last few hours," he whispered softly, as he continued to soothe her. "You don't have to try and describe it until you're good and ready."

He felt her nod against his hand, and there was more silence in which Harry continued to try and comfort her, until Ruth whispered back:

"Thank you for coming to get me."

Harry could not help but feel a little relieved at hearing her speak again, but wished it had not been her doubting her own self-worth again. He considered all that had happened since he had returned to the grid: the arguments, her discovering Sasha's parentage, his and Elena's affair, Tariq's death, and he cringed. His mind then flitted back to that night; the feeling of utter emotional truth and bliss during their lovemaking, the crying out that he loved her, the smell of her sweet skin after the coupling, and the vowing that he would never let anyone ever hurt her. Harry tried desperately not to cry as he realised had failed miserably on all accounts.

"I think it's the very least I could do after… everything." Harry replied bitterly. Ruth inclined her head a little towards him, but still remained faced to the window. There was another silence in which Harry disengaged his hand from Ruth's and stopped stroking her hair; bringing both down to shield his eyes from her and sit with his hands over his face. "Oh God, I am so very very sorry Ruth. I am so sorry for everything."

Only now did Ruth turn her head to face him. Harry could hear the movement through the rustling of the bed sheets, but he purposely stayed his hands over his eyes, so that she could not see the tears that were threatening to spill.

"Harry." She whispered softly, and despite her pain and fear, he could still hear that her voice was laced with love and concern. This was really too much to bear; Harry could not prevent the salt of his tears any longer, and he felt the warmth of them flow freely down his cheeks, along with the heavy shake of his shoulders.

"I'm so sorry," he said in between gaps. "If I hadn't told you to go home-"

"It'd still have happened when I got home anyway, whether I went early or not." Ruth whispered reasonably, but Harry could still hear the pain and misery that caught in her hoarse voice.

"Oh Ruth," Harry gasped. "Dimitri called me whilst I was with Elena, telling me I should at least check you were alright after everything with Tariq." He pulled his hands down from his face, to dry his tears and he came face to face with Ruth, who had, as he thought, turned on the mattress to finally look at him. The blank, grey, haunted stare of pain emitting from her eyes frightened him more than any terrorist any ever could. The mixture of desperation and concern made him cry even harder, and he looked away once again. He knew he had absolutely no right to feel guilty or get into this sort of state after she had been the one to experience such a brutal attack. "I told him to forget it…to forget you. I told him that I couldn't care less about you-"

He looked back towards her and saw that she had stiffened tremendously on the bed, and although tears now seemed beyond her, she looked like she was desperately in need of a good cry. Her left hand had snaked out from underneath the bedclothes and was self-consciously pulling the sheets further around her, as if ashamed of being seen by him, in her condition. She began to turn away from again, and Harry registered the look of anguish in her deadened eyes. He hastily reached for her again, ready to tell her none of it was true; that he loved her more than anything else in the world, but then he heard the door behind him snap open and he hurriedly rid his cheeks of tears.

A bright-eyed, kindly-looking young nurse bustled into the room, the flats of her heels echoing soundly on the hard floor; carrying some flowery material of some description. She stopped as she spotted Ruth lying quite awake on the bed and smiled gently:

"Ah, you're awake I see," she wandered over to the end of the bed and picked up the blue clipboard that hung there, flicking through the pages briefly. Harry watched the young nurse nod slightly and re-attach the chart to its normal place, before she placed the material on the bed. "I'll go and see Doctor Hadley in a minute and he'll come and see if you need anymore medication. Your results should be back soon, so he'll know what he's looking at then, and I'll see if I can arrange a sonogram for you downstairs." At their nods she smiled and indicated the material on the bed. "Here's a clean gown that you can change into if you don't want to remain in that old one." She said, and her head inclined suddenly towards the table, and the papier-mâché bowl brimming with vomit. Harry noticed Ruth twitch in helpless shame, and he reached for her hand again. This time she flinched away, and moved her right hand as far away as she could without pulling the tube connecting to the drip out. His heart broke yet again.

"Don't worry," the nurse smiled kindly upon seeing Ruth's mortification. "I'll get rid of it and bring you a fresh bowl. The sickness will be stronger than usual as a reaction to the medication you've been given."

Ruth nodded but her expression still betrayed her humiliation.

"Do you want me to help you with the gown, since you've got the needle in your arm?" The young nurse said indicating the tube and drip.

Harry saw Ruth's frightened, horrified expression, and said firmly, "She'll be fine thanks."

The nurse nodded kindly, and she picked up the bowl and carried it over to the door, "Just call someone outside if you need anything."

Harry nodded his thanks, and with that, the nurse disappeared through the doorway. He suddenly remembered the bag that Dimitri had packed and given to him, but he must have left it outside in his haste to see Ruth. He could leave her for a second to go and fetch it but he felt it prudent at this stage in the conversation not to abandon her now, and so he resolved he would give it her later. He picked up the gown and handed it to her. Ruth took it in her left hand without a word and attempted to sit up. Just as before she failed and fell back exhausted against the pillows, so Harry moved forward and sat on the bed to help lift her fully upright to slip the gown on. As she lay back against him, Harry gently started to unbutton the blood, and sick covered gown from the back, and was about to peel it off when Ruth tensed, let out a cry and attempted to roll over and hit out at him. "No, stop…please don't…please." She cried.

Shocked, Harry automatically started back away from her and off the bed. He saw that her eyes were tight shut and her body was clenched as if she was imagining she was about to be raped again.

"Ruth it's alright." He whispered again gently. "It's alright."

As if waking from a nightmare, Ruth opened her eyes and breathed heavily for a moment, after her brief lapse into the past. Once she was sure that no one was anywhere near her, she began to struggle with the dirty gown and her right hand. Harry stepped forwards to aid her, "Ruth, let me help you."

As he placed his hands on her arm, Ruth jumped violently, and she snapped, "Harry I can change a bloody nightdress by myself!"

As if touching fire Harry leapt back and nodded quickly, yet he watched as Ruth struggled desperately in getting the gown off. As it slipped away from the front of her body, Harry glimpsed those same violent cuts and bruises, but Ruth suddenly said flatly, "Please don't look at me." Harry realised she knew he had seen her in such a state before, but despite his earlier words still felt ashamed. She clearly didn't want anyone looking at her body yet. He nodded sadly, and turned away. He waited minutes, all the while listening to the rustling of fabric and the whimpers of Ruth's struggle. Eventually, he heard her gasp unevenly, and he turned to see her lying exhaustedly against the pillows, nightdress half on, half off, with tears dribbling slowly down her cheeks.

"Ruth…"

Despite her earlier words, Harry stepped forwards and seated himself on the bed, taking her gently in his arms; holding and rocking her whilst the tears continuously flowed. He was encouraged by the fact that this time she did not pull away, and so kissing the back of her head lightly, he tenderly peeled off the remaining gown from her body and drip. Silently, he pulled the fresh one over her head; inserting each arm with care, and allowing Ruth to pull the rest of it over her battered body and legs. Although he saw in great detail the scars that lay on her back and legs, Harry said nothing. It was a peace offering, and an example of the true trust that now existed between them. When she was finished, and the tears had subsided, Harry kissed the back of her head one more time and seated himself back into the chair. Ruth now lay in a comfortable sitting position, her head bowed and eyes fixed on the sheets.

"I hate feeling so…helpless." Ruth whispered despondently.

"I know." Harry replied softly.

After a pause she continued, "It's not your fault Harry…what happened."

"It's just one of the many things I've done to you though isn't it?" Harry answered sadly. "If I had checked up on you-"

"It wasn't your fault," Ruth repeated. "If I had just given them the information-"

"Information?" Harry frowned. He had been so caught up in what they had done to Ruth; it had not occurred to him the reason as to why she had been attacked. "Ruth look at me." He said gently. Slowly, she raised her had from her gaze on the bedclothes, and looked at him with sad grey eyes. "What information?"

"I…they wanted…" Ruth's eyes suddenly filled with fear as she remembered the attack. Harry reached for her hand once again and she looked down. "They wanted the information Tariq gave to me before he…"

"Tariq gave you information?"

Ruth nodded, "When he collapsed, he gave me this device…he said it was important."

"Why didn't you give it us straight away?"

She shrunk away at his accusatory tone, "Tariq had just died…and then we…argued." Ruth continued to fix her gaze anywhere else but at him.

"That's not all is it?" Harry asked, knowing her too well. When she did not reply, Harry squeezed her hand gently, "It's alright Ruth, I won't let them hurt you again. I promise. What else did they want?"

Still Ruth shook her head, and refused to look at him. "Ruth?"

"I can't." she whispered fearfully.

"Yes you can." Harry said firmly.

"Don't be angry. Please don't go." Ruth whispered pleadingly.

Harry's heart was beating rapidly now, fearful of what Ruth was going to say. He rubbed her hand with this thumb, "I'm not going anywhere, I promise you. And I won't be angry."

Ruth struggled with herself for a moment before losing her eyes and saying, "I took files home to work on. They…they took the ones on Jim Coaver."

Harry's heart skipped a beat, and he suddenly understood why Ruth had been so frightened of telling him after their argument earlier yesterday. He looked down at her and saw her eyes clasped tight shut, to maintain her strength if he shouted or even left the room. He forced himself to swallow this information for now, and focus on her.

"I'll get someone to look into it." He said softly. Ruth relaxed and her eyes fluttered open in surprise. "I'll find out why someone wanted information on Jim Coaver."

Ruth nodded gratefully, and squeezed his hand back in reply.

"Did they take the information Tariq gave you?"

Ruth froze and looked frightened again. She shook her head, "No…that's why…that's why they...I wouldn't give it to them…"

"Okay." Harry whispered gently. "Where is it?"

"It's…it's in my desk at the grid."

Harry nodded, and softly traced patterns on her and with his thumb. "It's my fault." Ruth said suddenly. "If I had given them what they wanted…"

Harry could not bear this and he tugged on her hand to make her look at him, "No, don't you dare. Don't you dare think any of this is your fault."

"I should have given them the information somehow…I should have."

"Ruth, it's not your fault. Not any of this, do you understand?" Harry said firmly, in a tone that forbade any sort of counter argument. "How could it be?"

"You don't understand." Ruth whispered fretfully. "What if…what if they harmed the baby…what if they hurt it when they…I should have protected it. I tried Harry…I really did try to protect it."

Harry wanted to cry again at hearing her this guilt-ridden and trying to justify herself to him in such a way. Somehow needing to be closer to her, he sat on the edge of the bed and stroked her hair gently, "I know. I know you would have."

A thought suddenly occurred to him, and he realised the reason behind her continuous apologising when she arrived at the hospital.

Once she had calmed a little he said softly, unable to stop himself asking the question any longer, "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant Ruth? If I had known…"

"I tried." She said miserably. "Every day, for weeks…months after I found out- I knocked on your door, I tried to call you…you didn't seem to want to know. It was as if you had already got what you wanted, and didn't need anything more from me."

Flashes of Ruth's painful reproach at the Grid about his leaving her that night, passed through his mind, and he leant down to meet her eyes, "I promise you Ruth, it was nothing of the sort."

Ruth said nothing, and merely looked down at the sheets again.

"When did you find out?" Harry asked quietly.

"Not long before you came back." She answered. "I couldn't understand why I felt so tired and why I was constantly ill, and then I fainted in front of Dimitri."

"Dimitri saw you faint, and it didn't occur to him that something was wrong?" Harry demanded.

Ruth shook her head quickly, "No, he was lovely about it. He told me he would even take me to the Doctors, but I turned him down. It had dawned on me what it might be and…and I didn't want him to know…not when I didn't yet know myself."

"Ruth, you should have gone to the Doctors." Harry said softly.

"I took a pregnancy test, after getting one from the pharmacy. It felt like everyone in there was watching me the whole time I was at the counter. But I went home and…"

Harry nodded, knowing the rest. He sighed and reproached her gently:

"If you couldn't tell me, you should have told someone…Dimitri…or even Erin- she's a mother herself."

"I didn't know Erin that well and, telling anyone… I was…scared."

"Scared of what they would think of you?" Harry asked, and although Ruth did not reply, he knew this was partly the reason, on top of the possibility that she could have lost her job. He squeezed her hand gently, "Ruth, no one could ever think badly of you for getting pregnant. It just shows that you're human- you love just the same way as others do."

"I'm so sorry." She whispered, tears threatening to overflow again from her brimming eyes.

"Ruth, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for." Harry tried softly, but she shook her head stubbornly. "You've done nothing wrong."

"I have." Ruth said, covering her face with her left hand as she spoke. "I got pregnant- at our age. You don't want to be a father now, and I'd be a terrible mother. I don't blame you if you want nothing to do with it but…I…I couldn't seem to…to get rid of it. I can't-"

Harry did not know how to stop her talking like this anymore; each word was breaking his heart. He wanted desperately to hold her and reassure her, but was unsure whether or not holding her too often after her ordeal was a wise idea. So before she could utter another word Harry gently reached out, took hold of her left hand, pulling it away from her face and kissed it lightly. The action contained no intentions of roughness or pain; only love, and she stopped immediately to look at him.

"Ruth, don't you dare think I'm going to abandon you…ever; least of all because of this." Ruth stared at him, tears running silently down her cheeks. "And don't you think for one moment I'm going to make you cope with a child on your own. You've coped for long enough on your own, and I can promise you that this," he said indicating her sitting up in bed, and the machines around her. "will _never_ happen again."

Harry slowly, but gently reached towards her face to let her know he was going to wipe away her tears with his thumb, and she allowed him to, without a flinch.

"And you'd be a beautiful mother Ruth." He continued. "But what were you going to do when you were further along?" he asked kindly, without berating her. It was just so unlike her not to plan anything as important as this."People would have noticed eventually Ruth."

She bowed her head and shook it slightly, "I…I don't know." She looked up briefly at Harry, who was still smiling kindly at her, waiting for her to expand, before dropping her head and wiping away more tears. "I…I didn't make any appointments or…tell anyone, because…I suppose…I could pretend everything was alright…that nothing had changed."

"You were ashamed? Upset that you were pregnant?" Harry asked, trying to understand her reasoning.

Ruth's head suddenly shot up again and she said quite fiercely, "No." Harry knew better than to interrupt, and he waited for her to find the right words to explain. "No…I…wasn't any of those things. But I was…scared and…I…I don't know." Ruth finished her statement in a whisper, and Harry suddenly realised that he should not be pushing her on something like this at all at this stage. She had just been sexually assaulted a few hours previously, and he was already demanding too much from her; especially since he was demanding to know about their child- something which had been conceived after their own sexual experience, and following that, particularly painful encounters and arguments. He wanted to hit himself inwardly as he watched Ruth to struggle with everything as it overflowed in her confused, pained, and exhausted mind.

"Oh Ruth," he sighed, and kissed her left hand again. "I'm sorry. This is isn't the time."

She had her head bowed again, ashamed at being so helpless and disorientated at the moment; not being able to focus on anything but the images of what had just happened to her.

At the point where he was going to suggest leaving her be, to give her some space and rest, the Doctor who had allowed him inside the room a couple of hours earlier, strode in, holding a clipboard in his left hand and a new saline drip bag in the other. Now that Harry pulled his attention away from the woman next to him, he realised that the machine flowing fluid into the tube and Ruth's right arm, was bleeping annoyingly loudly; demanding a refill. The Doctor, called Hadley, according to his name badge, attended to the drip first, ensuring the machine stopped its incessant noise, before walking over to the bed and smiling gently at Ruth.

"The nurse who was in here earlier told me you were awake, so I've arranged a sonogram for you. I'll get someone to take you downstairs in a minute, if that's alright?" Ruth nodded numbly, although her eyes had become a little wider and her grip on his hands had tightened considerably upon seeing the male stranger approach.

"She also said that you had quite chronic sickness, partly due to the medication. She'll bring you another bowl whilst you're away." He continued very kindly, though Ruth still kept an inordinately tight grip on his hand, and Harry gave it a comforting squeeze back. Doctor Hadley indicated the clipboard in his hands. "I've got the results of the tests we performed back. It's quite good news in that there don't appear to be specific traces of any transmitted diseases, although I'll have a nurse talk to you about them a little later on, in case you start developing any symptoms. I have to ask though how many assailants there were." He finished slowly, as if this would make the task any easier.

Harry glanced sideways at Ruth and felt her breathing accelerate, plus the grip on his hand was now excruciating. He said nothing, though upon seeing Ruth close her eyes and shake her head in distress, he turned to Hadley, "Can't it wait? She's been through enough."

"I would need to know to put it in her chart if her condition seems to get worse," the Doctor said patiently. He looked sympathetically at Ruth again, and Harry continued to cradle her hand in his. Eventually, Ruth struggled to whisper, "Four."

Harry's heart stopped as he heard the word uttered, and he wanted to cry for her; hold her and comfort her, but she kept her eyes tight closed as she now recounted everything in her mind. No wonder he had found her in such a bad way when he entered that kitchen- she had been violated by four men. It also explained why she had been so frightened when the paramedics came to fetch her. He had been hoping against hope it had not been as bad as he thought; that she may only have been harmed by one person, but this…this was gang rape. He held her hand ever tighter intending in that moment never to let it go.

"And just to make sure," the Doctor said, jotting this down on his clipboard. "Did all four of the perpetrators ejaculate?"

Harry subconsciously planted another kiss on her left hand as she nodded, which surprisingly did not make her jump, despite the fact that her eyes were still closed.

"Well done." He said gently. "Is the pain any better than when you first arrived?"

Ruth nodded again, still keeping her eyes closed.

"Can you tell or show me where exactly you're still experiencing pain, if any?"

She hesitated and then slowly moved her left hand from Harry's grasp, and placed it in between her legs, at which point she winced and brought it back up again. Her eyes still closed, she blindly reached for Harry again, and he quickly entwined his fingers with hers.

"But is it getting better?"

Ruth nodded again. Doctor Hadley finished his notating, clicked his silver pen and shoved it back into his pocket, before heading towards the door, clipboard still under his arm. He opened it and two nurses wheeled in a transportation gurney to take Ruth downstairs. Ruth's eyes flickered open and started at the sight of so many people now in the room. From the open doorway she caught a brief glimpse of Dimitri slouched in a white plastic chair outside in the corridor, apparently so exhausted that he had drifted off to sleep, mouth wide open.

"Harry-" she began quietly.

Harry, reading her mind, turned to the Doctor and asked if he could go with her, to which he agreed, surprisingly without much reluctance. Harry suspected that either Erin or Calum had placed a complimentary phone call of authority to the department, and he felt deeply grateful.

Still in too much pain and too stiff to move herself much, Harry assisted the nurses in lifted Ruth gently onto the gurney. He held tight to Ruth's hand the whole time as they travelled down the corridor and towards the lower floor.

**Next up- the viewing of the little bundle of joy, Harry's prevention of a potentially disasterous event by Ruth, the plot thickens as Erin will discover, and the possibility ;) that HR will finally reveal their true feelings. Please review if you like and you're all for me continuing with this story, or even if you just want to have a good cry, because that's fine too :) xxx**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hiya- thank you for all the lovely reviews xxx even if you didn't really feel in the mood for angst. We have the scan of the baby now, which of course is bound to be a little overwhelming for Ruth. But never fear- I have calculated that if all goes to plan- there will be small smidgens of fluff either in the next or the following chapter from that, as Harry takes Ruth home. Please R&R**

The nurses wheeled the gurney into the darkened room, and Ruth flinched at the drastic contrast in lighting; as it was, she had only just been adjusting to the bright lights of her room and the corridors down which she had travelled. Upon entering the darkened room, she glimpsed very little lighting, except for the variety of machinery lined up against the walls and in the centre of the room, next to a rather uncomfortable looking bed. She fought hard not to panic as the sudden darkness impaired her vision for a few seconds, and people she could not see clearly loaded her off the gurney and onto the bed in the centre of the room. The drip, which had been wheeled alongside her, was placed directly next to the mattress, and she could hear its guzzling noise near her right ear. All the while she clung to her one constant, Harry's hand, reassured, at least for the moment, that whilst he was there everything was alright and she was safe. Every so often, he would whisper gentle words of comfort, which were so unlike the tone of the efficient boss on the Grid that she was used to, placated her all the more. It brought her back to rare times in which she had been happy and contented; completely at peace with the world- that one perfect night together almost three months ago; that one official date they had shared nearly five years ago- he had driven her home, and then insisted on walking her up the path to the door, just to make sure she got through the door safely.

The nurses who had manoeuvred her along the corridors now pushed the gurney back out of the room, arranging with a nurse hovering not far away from her, what time they would be back to collect her. Her eyes now fully adjusted to the room, Ruth glanced sideways at her and Harry's entwined hands and heard the way the nurses had, albeit kindly, but patronisingly been arranging to collect her. She felt so agonisingly weak and vulnerable, like a child back at nursery school, unable to take care of herself, and she stiffened, her pride dented.

"Are you alright?" Harry whispered in her ear, as he settled himself into a chair next to her.

Ruth forced herself to nod back even though it was a complete lie. At that moment, she did not think anything would ever be alright again. In fact, she could not imagine such a concept. This must have been portrayed on her face, because Harry gently placed a soothing kiss on her left temple. She closed her eyes momentarily, and jumped violently when she reopened them to find herself staring into the face of a middle aged nurse, not much older than she was; clutching a white tube of dubious clear liquid.

"It's alright." She smiled softly, and stepped back so that she would not startle Ruth again. She then indicated the tube of liquid. "I'll just tell you what's going to happen, to calm your nerves a bit okay?" she said gently.

Ruth nodded gratefully, but did not notice that she was ever so slightly leaning towards Harry. The nurse herself noticed this, but was apparently accustomed to instances such as this, and so smiled gently at Ruth; the corners of her mouth and eyes wrinkling a tiny bit as she did so.

"First off, I'm going to have to lift your gown up a bit so that I can see your stomach," Ruth began to panic at the thought of revealing herself, and suddenly noticed that the absence of a blanket was extremely discomforting; she no longer had a barrier to put between her body and other people, and that frightened her. She felt her breath catch and become heavy, and her grip subconsciously tightened on Harry's hand. "Then, I'm going to put some of this gel," the nurse was saying, indicating the bottle. "On to your stomach so that the equipment over there will flow better and sense the foetus. The scanner will then transfer the image onto the screen here," she patted a temporarily dark screen which was hovering just above her in the centre of the room. "so we can check if the foetus is alright."

"Will there be something wrong with it?" Ruth panicked at the older woman's last statement, and she attempted to sit up, before being eased back down by the said nurse.

"We'll see in a few minutes." The nurse replied kindly, and moved her hands to the edge of Ruth's nightdress. Instantly, with all the strength she could summon, Ruth forced herself away from the nurse's grip, eyes wide and terrified at the prospect of being helplessly revealed and manhandled once again. She could feel the thin material of the gown disappearing to expose her bruised, bare flesh and she could not bear it again. However, the only move she could make in her condition was a push against the bed that resulted in her lying side-on towards Harry. A little surprised by the motion, Harry blinked, his gaze meeting hers.

Due to the combination of staring into those soft hazel eyes and the spasm of pain between her legs, Ruth felt herself crumble inwardly, and she let out a whimper of frustration. She hated feeling so bloody helpless. Fear and panic swelled up inside her and she felt hot tears seep down her reddened cheeks, at the embarrassment and shame of it all.

"Ruth." Harry removed his hand from hers and gently placed his arms around her, so that her head was buried against his chest; her salty tears fell drip by drip onto his shirt.

"Harry," she whispered desperately, taking in the soothing scent of his aftershave. "Please…please don't let them do it again."

"It's alright," she heard the nurse say somewhere in the distance. "This is a relatively normal reaction considering what she's been through in the recent hours."

Ruth felt glad of Harry's protective arms around her, holding her tightly, but not too tightly against him. She felt his body's posture move slightly, as his head lifted to look in concern at the nurse before them.

"Can you not cover her with something whilst you examine the baby?" he asked desperately, deeply concerned by Ruth's erratic state. Yet again, he tried extremely hard not to let his mind imagine what the four men must have done to her to get someone as strong-minded as Ruth into this state.

"If she wants her lower body covered whilst I do the scan, I can put a sheet over her to cover the pelvis and legs." The nurse replied gently, and Ruth felt herself relax a little both inwardly and physically.

"Yes." Harry answered, almost as if he was reading her mind. "That would be better." He started to unwind his arms from around her, and whispered so that only she could hear, "You'll be alright Ruth. No one's going to hurt you now, I promise. Remember, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing."

With that he gently turned her on the mattress so that the nurse could cover her lower body with the blanket, whilst successfully lifting up her nightdress. Harry returned to his seat, and resumed his hold on her hand which Ruth squeezed lightly and gratefully, hoping he knew what she meant. His gentle squeeze back and soft smile told her he did.

* * *

><p>"The gel will be quite cold." The nurse remarked, as she flicked off the cap and the liquid oozed slowly onto Ruth's stomach. Again, Harry watched Ruth jump a little in an automatic reaction to the sudden coldness unleashed on her stomach, but he felt immensely proud of her in that this time, she sucked in her breath and forced herself to stay calm.<p>

Both he and Ruth watched as the nurse picked up the scanner from the spotless white tray next to her and placed it lightly onto Ruth's stomach. Harry followed the nurse's gaze as she looked over towards the screen next to Ruth, and saw to his surprise that it had more or less instantaneously turned from blank darkness to a greyish image of Ruth's inside's. It forced to forefront of his mind, distant memories of him taking Jane to her sonogram appointments, yet he also bitterly recalled that he had not accompanied her to the first appointment for either of his children. He bit his lip as he then remembered that he had been called out of Graham's second scan, to be told that he was needed for some national emergency or other. It was a mark of how unimportant the situation actually was in comparison to the viewing of his child, that he could not remember the details of the 'emergency' at all. However, as he stared at the screen whilst the nurse revolved the scanner slowly around Ruth's stomach, he saw such beauty in the moment; despite everything that had happened over the past few hours. He knew at that moment in time that he would never treat Ruth in such a way; she deserved so much better than that.

Harry brought his eyes down briefly from his fascinated gaze at the screen, and glanced at Ruth's stomach. Although the scanner was still slowly revolving over it, causing the clear gel to smear further, he was sure he could make out just the tiniest of alterations. If you had not been looking for it you would never have noticed it, but Harry felt sure he recognised just a smidgeon of a bump.

"Ah." The nurse exclaimed suddenly, causing Harry's gaze to revert quickly back to the screen. "There's the little one."

For an instant, Harry had to narrow his eyes in order to make the distorted image out, but once he had finished, his eyebrows and cheek muscles lifted, and he felt overwhelmingly happy; far from the tired, worn, aged persona he had embodied for the past few months. Sure enough, in the centre of the screen was the makings of a tiny baby, not yet fully formed of course, but nonetheless, a beautiful human life. A human life, Harry thought sadly, Ruth had carried secretly around with her for almost three months, without telling a soul.

"In answer to your question," the nurse continued, smiling widely at Ruth, before returning her satisfied expression to the screen. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with the foetus at all. You have the makings of a very beautiful, very healthy baby."

"There you go," Harry whispered in Ruth's ear. "It's absolutely fine Ruth."

When she did not respond, Harry looked across at her, and saw that her eyes were clamped tight shut, as if blocking out anything and everything in silent prayer that the child was alright.

"Ruth." Harry said a little louder, and placed his other hand on her shoulder to alert her. Slowly, Ruth's eyes fluttered open, and her fearful gaze met his. He smiled lovingly in response, and nodded to the screen on her other side. "It's alright. The baby's alright. It's just fine. They didn't hurt it, Ruth." Apparently reassured, Ruth turned her head slowly towards the screen, and lifted her eyes to meet the image. As she did so, Harry planted a gentle kiss on the top of her head, and watched her take in the sight before her, now utterly transfixed. "You protected it beautifully." Harry whispered.

"I'm going to leave you in private for a few minutes okay?" the nurses said, smiling at the two of them, and although Ruth did not take her eyes off the screen, Harry nodded his thanks. The nurse exited the room, carrying a chart similar to Doctor Hadley's; presumably to make a few notes for the said Doctor.

Harry allowed himself to stare in fascination at the screen for a few more moments, before looking to Ruth again. Her eyes were still fixed on the tiny image beating away on the screen. He tried to imagine how much something like this would mean to her; the fact that the only family she had was currently residing in her stomach was possibly a little overwhelming, particularly after everything that had happened over the last few hours or so, and indeed the nature of the baby's conception. She had been in denial for nearly three months, he thought heartbreakingly, and now, because of something so violent and horrific, she was now being forced to face the change in her life. He had not yet established whether she even considered a child a good or bad thing.

"Ruth?" Harry said quietly.

Still, she did not react in any way, only continued to stare at the screen.

"Ruth?" Harry repeated softly.

This time, Ruth twitched, and her head dropped to her chest. He had to edge closer to the bed in order to see what the matter was, but it was all too evident from the crumpling of her face, and her shaking shoulders, as she began to produce uncontrollable wracking sobs. Although Harry instantly leapt forwards and folded her in his arms once more, this time it did not seem to have any effect at all. He felt almost as helpless as she was physically; as he was forced to watch her agonising sobs take over her breathing, to such an extent she was gasping desperately for breath.

"Oh Ruth." He whispered, rocking her gently to him.

He had experienced nine years of Ruth more or less completely in control of her feelings; she had always been the one solid rock in his life, even during the events just before the Albany fiasco, she had been the one to keep him going- she always had that supreme mental strength. True, he had witnessed her breaking down before; after Danny, Jo and George's deaths, in the kitchen before they had released their passions in the bedroom that one night, or even when she had woken up an hour or so ago. But this was different. This was so different, because her agonising, wracking sobs of desperation portrayed a woman who was not just simply hurting, but was attempting to cling to one tiny shred of light in a world consisting only of darkness, without success. These were sobs from the very depth of her heart and soul, and they shook Harry to the core.

"Sshh." Harry hushed in her ear, as every so often she would take a break for a gasp of air.

It felt like hours as he perched on the edge of the bed, cradling in his arms the woman he loved more than anything else in the world, yet unable to do or say anything which could be of any comfort. Eventually, the crying began to slow to such an extent that Ruth was able to form words through consecutive gasps.

"I…I'm s…sorry," she gasped, trying desperately to calm down and control her erratic breathing. "I…I can't seem t…to stop cry…crying."

Harry tightened his comforting hold on her once again, "Don't you give it a second thought Ruth." He whispered fiercely. "You have a good cry. You've been holding it in for long enough."

He felt her nod against his chest and continued for a few more minutes before she was able to gasp out, "I…I can't…g…get rid of it. I can't."

"I never once suggested that you should." Harry said firmly. "It's your baby Ruth. It's…it's your family."

"B…but it's s…selfish to have it." Ruth cried, shocking him at her outburst.

"No it's not." Harry said rocking her gently to him. "It's your child Ruth. You just as much a right to have a child as anyone else."

"N…no. Look at A…Adam and F…Fiona. W…Wes…that little b…boy was left all a…alone. P…people like us…we're n…never meant to have things like t…that" Harry opened his mouth to speak but stopped as he heard Ruth push on. "I…I can't…put a child…th…through that. What i…if it gets hurt b…because of what we do? I c…can't Harry, I can't. I…it really hurts…when…when you're punished for t…this job. I c…can't bring a child in…into this ho…horror of a world…es…especially knowing the n…nature of it…its conception-"

Harry had heard enough, and this time, he turned her firmly, almost roughly to face him. It shocked her so much, it worked and she looked desperately up at him, still gasping for air.

"That's enough Ruth." He growled fiercely, gripping her arms tightly. "This baby was conceived out of an act of love. Love- not lust…not some casual shag. Pure, unadulterated, genuine love Ruth."

Ruth now shook her head, almost angrily, and attempted to pull away from his grip, but he held on, determined to make his point. The time was right, he had decided; there was no going back from what he was going to say, and he didn't want to go back either.

"And because of that love, I promise you that I will never let anything happen to you or that baby. Ever. Do you understand?" Harry shook Ruth slightly, as she fought against him. "It will be brought up happily enough; with people like us as parent, it could never be politically or worldly naïve, but it will grow up content enough with life. It will never be left alone in the world. And neither will you, because…because I love you Ruth."

Having finished his speech, he felt Ruth push desperately away from him, more distressed than ever, "S…Stop making it hurt s…so much m…more." She begged. "I'm constantly b…being pulled…this way and…that. One min…minute you say y…you love me…and then the next...you say y…you don't care...you shout that I'm…I'm no use to anyone…a…and you go to see Elena."

"Ruth, it was all lies." Harry said loudly and desperately. "All of it was just lies. The only truth in it is that I _do_ love you. I said all those things to try and protect you from myself- from you getting hurt because of me, or getting fired." He felt his own tears brimming now. "And fat lot of good it did, because you ended up getting hurt anyway. So I'm being honest now Ruth. For the first time, since you told me to leave it as something wonderful that was never said, I'm being honest, and saying it. I love you."

"Har…Harry these l…last few weeks…all it has proved is that y…you love Elena."

"No."

"Y…yes." Ruth cried further. "Y…yes you do. The look o…on your face when D…Dimitri said she had b…been attacked."

"The woman carried my child Ruth," Harry argued. "The least I could do was see she was alright, especially since she was attacked on British soil, whilst I'm supposed to be protecting her. When you needed me…I came straight away to get you."

"I'm j…just the latest in a long line Harry," Ruth sobbed, quite beside herself now, and clutching madly at her stomach. "Just one m…more you've got knocked up, so y…you feel you have to protect me, is that it?"

"You know that's not it." Harry growled.

"No I don't." Ruth cried, crumbling completely and bringing her free hand up to cover her face. "I don't know wh…what's what anymore. I don't know w…_what_ is going on."

Furious at himself for losing his temper like that, he wondered just how many wrong things he could say, after her ordeal last night. Harry watched Ruth sob even more distressingly before he reached for her once again. Frightened of the tight grip he had issued before, Ruth flinched away this time, but Harry persevered onwards and gently pulled her against him once again. He kept his touch light to let her know she could escape at any time she wanted to.

"I know," he whispered gently. "I know."

"No you don't." Ruth replied weakly, apparently succumbing to his gentle touch, as he felt her snuggle slowly into his embrace.

"I do know that you've been through utter Hell." Harry said tenderly. "I do know that I've put you through utter Hell over the recent months. I'm so sorry I wasn't there when you needed me…but I'm here now." He looked down and was satisfied enough to see that she was quietening slowly now against his chest; her ear resting lightly over his heart, listening through the reassuring beat pump through him. "Ruth, I don't love Elena." He tried again. "Elena and I were lovers, yes. Lovers…meaning the bond consisted mostly of sex and a son." He felt Ruth stir a little at this, but she did not say anything, giving him the encouragement to continue. "I didn't lie that night when I told you I loved you. Our child was the culmination of nine years of repressed love. Genuine love Ruth, which I know was reflected on both sides."

He felt Ruth release spasmodic hiccoughs every so often, and small sniffs. She did not argue with what he was saying now, so he continued. "You had every right to abort the child Ruth, when you thought I didn't want to know. I'm so sorry for everything I put you through; it was the worse plan I've ever come up with, I know that not. But still, you didn't have an abortion. Why?"

He felt Ruth sniff and take a few more unsteady breaths, before saying quietly, "Because it was yours. It was our baby. I…I couldn't bear to get rid of it."

"Because despite me being an insufferable bastard," Harry said, praying she was going to reply in the way he hoped. "You still loved me."

He waited with baited breath until he saw her nod. Gently, he lowered his head and planted a kiss on her hair. "Just as I love you."

Harry watched Ruth crane her neck to stare with still red-rimmed eyes at him, and slowly, ever so slowly, he thought he glimpsed the tiniest upturn in her mouth; had they final confessed their feelings on a more happier occasion, it might yet have been a smile. Yet, as he opened his mouth to say something else, Ruth suddenly began to double over, clutching her mouth, and pulling desperately away from him. Harry recognised the signs this time and thankfully he spotted another papier-mâché bowl lying hidden away behind a whole stack of clear gel tubes. A few minutes on, the nurse returned to find Harry still perched on the bed, holding the bowl under Ruth's chin as she vomited, and with his remaining hand, stroking her hair soothingly.

Although she could do nothing about the sickness, the nurse called two other ward staff to wheel Ruth on a gurney back upstairs to her room. Before they arrived, Ruth had finished vomiting, but had virtually passed out with exhaustion. With her unconscious, it was now easier for Harry to view the scars on her body, as the gynaecological nurse wiped away any traces of remaining gel from her stomach, and pulled her gown down again. She very kindly told Harry as he left the room with Ruth loaded on the gurney, that she would empty the bowl of sick, and he nodded gratefully. Just as he was about to exit she handed him two smallish print-outs of the scan, and smiled. Harry placed them very carefully into his trouser pocket, and made a mental note to give one to Ruth when she was more awake, and less emotionally drained.

* * *

><p>Harry reappeared from Ruth's room, now content that she was fully settled and asleep, and plonked himself heavily into a chair next to Dimitri. The young officer had woken since he had last seen him on the way to Ruth's scan; when Dimitri had briefly seen Ruth as she was wheeled on the gurney back into her room, he had turned deathly pale. Now, he turned to Harry and from underneath the chair handed him a coffee. Surprised by the gesture, Harry took the cup, and sniffed its welcomingly warm contents- it was black coffee- just the way he needed it at the moment. All communication was non-verbal, but it was still very much there. For Dimitri, the coffee represented a general acceptance that although Harry had been a thorough idiot over the recent weeks, he now knew his boss intended to be there for Ruth every step of the way. For Harry, it was genuine gratitude that his officer had been there for Ruth during a time he had not, and he owed much to him for that. Eventually, Dimitri said quietly:<p>

"I don't know if it would sound callous to ask how she is?"

Harry hesitated and then answered, "Not at all. She's…"

"Been better?" Dimitri asked, taking a sip of his own black coffee.

Harry nodded, "Yes."

There was a moment's pause before Dimitri cleared his throat and said, "I know this is the worst time possible, but the Home Secretary called the grid wanting to know where you were. He wants to see you urgently, but he couldn't get hold of you because your phone's switched off."

Harry glared at the white washed wall in front of him, "And there's a good reason for it being off. I have no intention of going anywhere or being disturbed by anyone right now."

"He said, and I quote, 'leave Scooby-doo and the mystery machine behind for once, and get your arse down to Whitehall'. He said it was something to do with the Gavriks'."

"I've had enough of the Gavrik's and the bloody British-Russian agreement." Harry snarled. "Ruth wouldn't be in here without it…Tariq wouldn't have been murdered."

Dimitri hesitated and then asked, "Do we definitely know Ruth was attacked because of the agreement?"

"I'm sure of it." Harry growled, his hands tightening around the foam of the plastic coffee cup. At Dimitri's questioning look, Harry decided he could trust and confide in this young officer. He after all, had been there for Ruth when she needed a friend. "The night Tariq died, he was trawling through CCTV images trying to find the people behind the stealing of the laptop. But when he collapsed outside the grid, and Ruth found him, shortly before he died, he handed her a information stick. In her state, she forgot to give it to us, and she locked it in her desk draw. I want you to get to it, and find out what's on it." Dimitri nodded. "I want to find out why these people, whoever they are, thought it was worth gang rape just to get that device."

"Gang rape?" Dimitri swallowed. "Shit. Has she said anything about her attackers?"

"Apparently they were all covered by black balaclavas, so she couldn't see their faces, they were, or at least one or two of them had an American accent, and there were four of them."

"And all of them…?" Dimitri asked, unable to continue.

"Yes." Harry replied brokenly. He also added, upon remembering his promise to Ruth, "They also took files on James Coaver- a CIA operative in the Cold War, now one of their deputy directors, that Ruth was looking into. Find out what you can about that."

Dimitri nodded, and then looked to Harry again, as if hoping he would actually confirm to bombshell he had overheard hours earlier. Remembering how good he had been to Ruth, and convincing himself that the young officer was a trustworthy ally, Harry eventually gave in and said quietly:

"Ruth's pregnant."

Dimitri nodded, although he still looked slightly bewildered, "I kind of guessed that."

Harry added a little pointlessly, "I'm the father."

"I guessed that too."

Harry nodded, wondering what to do or say next.

"Unintentional?" Dimitri asked, closing his eyes as he realised that might bee prying just a little too much.

Unable to keep a little quiver of annoyance out of his voice, Harry growled sarcastically, "No Dimitri, she planned it precisely on schedule to accompany it with the added bonus of sexual assault."

Dimitri looked down frowning, and Harry felt a pang of guilt and muttered, "Sorry."

"Can I ask when?" the younger officer asked, trying to see if the date coincided with his suspicions that it happened just as Ruth began to get ill."

Harry sighed, and said reluctantly, "The night of the Albany fiasco."

Dimitri nodded slowly, his suspicions confirmed. He then said, a little angrily, "So you got her pregnant, and then didn't speak to her for two whole months, and even when you did return to the grid-"

"I was a complete bastard, yes." Harry finished dryly. "Believe me, if I could turn back the clock then I would."

Dimitri sighed, and decided he would not even bother trying to find out why he had chosen to ignore Ruth for several months. It was Harry and Ruth after all; you couldn't find two people more in love- they just had absolutely no idea how to express it.

"Just as long as you look after her now." Dimitri said, slightly surprised at the protectiveness in his voice, and also slightly horrified that he had spoken to his boss in this way.

But Harry just smiled gently, "I will. I'm not leaving her. She's lucky to have had you looking out for her Dimitri. Thank you."

The younger officer nodded and cleared his throat gruffly, "She really has been ill recently."

Harry nodded miserably, "I know…she's been sick as a dog several times since I've been in to see her, poor girl."

"I called some people in to clean her house up a bit." Dimitri continued, and they both recounted the images of the blood smears on the wooden and tiled floors, and the heap of torn clothes. "How long until she goes home?"

Harry swallowed and gritted his teeth. If he had anything to do with it, she was not staying alone in that house until she felt fully ready to face up to what had happened, or at least until they had fitted greater security. "If I know Ruth," he said quietly. "She'll be wanting to go home soon; as soon as she's gotten over the initial shock of it all."

"Harry," Dimitri said awkwardly. "One of the people who cleared her house said that there was no sign of a forced entry." Harry looked away, frowning, and realised now that he thought about it, the door had been open, but it had not been forced open- the lock had been intact. "They reckon she must have let them in."

Harry frowned, knowing Ruth would never let anyone suspicious into her house; she was always very careful with strangers- she was too good at her job not to be. "I'll talk to her about it, when she's up to it."

Dimitri started to nod, and was disrupted by the buzzing of his phone. Patients, nurses and Doctors in the corridor turned to glare in the direction of incessant noise, and he quickly pressed the receive button after juggling with his now empty coffee cup. "Yes?"

Harry watched as Dimitri visibly gulped, "Yes Home Secretary." The younger officer hesitated and then said slowly. "Yes…yes he is here."

Dimitri handed over the phone to Harry, with fervent apologetic looks. Harry glared at the phone and snatched it up.

"Harry Pearce."

"Harry- where the hell are you!" The Home Secretary's highly angry tone exclaimed down the phone. "I've tried to get through to you five times. A very clever man invented the mobile telephone- may I suggested under penalty of inquiry that you keep yours turned on more often?"

"I've had more important matters." Harry replied dryly, hearing Tower's audible roar of frustration.

"Harry, I've not backed you throughout this whole inquiry for you to go gallivanting off when you don't feel like playing civil servants anymore."

This was enough for Harry, and it was all he could do to stop himself from taking out all his fury on his Home Secretary and screaming down the phone at Towers.

"Ruth Evershed was violently raped in her own home last night Home Secretary," Harry growled. "Now forgive me if I don't seem very cooperative with you this morning, but I'm sorry to say she comes first."

Harry was thankful that Towers at least seemed to have some heart, because he paused before he said, "Well…I'm sorry to hear that. I really am." He then retuned to his typical normal self. "But that does not excuse you from almost letting Elena Gavrik die on British soil, and then turning up unannounced at her hotel room."

Harry sighed tiredly, "Home Secretary-"

"Excuses or not," Towers snapped, apparently at the very end of his tether. "I want you here in my office in less than half an hour do you understand? Or you really are fired."

With that, Harry heard the phone being slammed down by a very peeved Home Secretary, and sighed. Dimitri took the phone back and looked at him.

"You should go Harry." He said reasonably.

"I'm not going anywhere." Harry growled firmly, remembering the promise he had given Ruth shortly before she passed out, that he would be there when she woke up.

"You're already in disgrace." Dimitri sighed. "You should go- just for a short amount of time to quieten Towers down- then come back."

"But Ruth-"

"Ruth looked far too exhausted to wake up for at least five hours." Dimitri replied, paling at the image of Ruth lying agonisingly pale, and sickened against the mattress of the gurney. "You'll be back by then."

"No I have to-"

"I'll stay with her." Dimitri offered sighing. "If she does wake up I'll tell her where you've gone. It's Ruth, Harry. Of course she would understand."

Harry now hesitated, and half glanced at the door to Ruth's room. He even half smiled as he thought of what Ruth would say if he got in trouble with the Home Secretary. She would never forgive him.

Slowly and reluctantly, he nodded and Dimitri handed Harry his car keys, after Harry had travelled in the ambulance with Ruth. He shook Dimitri's hand. "Thank you." He said genuinely, before looking once more in the direction of Ruth's room, and promising her silently that he would be back within the next coupe of hours at least. He turned and hurried down the corridor.

**Sorry if anyone finds it a bit sluggish, but I think after something as damaging as rape, it would take a rather slow recovery. Next up- Harry confirms his love to Ruth on a rather dangerous location, Erin and Dimitri delve further into the mystery, Towers has a go at Harry, and Harry takes Ruth home. Am also pondering on doing something with Calum as I absolutely loved his character shift with the line 'Bad people want to kill us' in the finale- so true. Please review- I love reviews. They encourage me to write a lot faster. xxx :)**


	15. Chapter 15

**Thank you for all the fabulous reviews- they meant a lot :) Sorry this chapter is only short, but it's been hectic lately and I've barely had enough time to sleep let alone write. The chapter was originally longer, but I split it, so that I can imrpove the latter part. I hope you like it anyway. But as of Wednesday, I will be able to finish and I hope you'll like that too. Please R&R :)**

Harry strode swiftly down the red carpeted corridors of Whitehall, his half done up coat billowing in his wake, and Dimitri's car keys jangling in his jacket pocket. He was only dimly aware that after spending the entire night in the hospital, slouched in some chair or other, either next to or waiting for news on Ruth, he looked extremely crumpled; it was only too obvious that he had not washed, changed or shaved that morning, but he did not care. All that mattered was that he got this irritating meeting over and done with as speedily as possible, so that he could get back to Ruth before she woke up, and found that he had disappeared. People's heads turned; both powerful men of standing, and mere secretaries looked on as he all but hurried past them, not stopping to greet the occasional person whom he vaguely knew. Eventually, he stopped at the oak door of the Home Secretary's office, and knocked before allowing himself to enter anyway. In his current position, it was possibly a good thing that no one was in with Towers at that moment, or he might have dug himself in to even more of a whole. Instead, Towers looked up slowly from the documents he was viewing, removed his glasses from the edge of his nose, and sat back in his easy chair.

"Harry, you're late." He said shortly, not even needing to bother with telling Harry where to sit, as he had already selected the seat opposite him. "I told you to get here in less than half an hour. You took an hour."

"I would apologise Home Secretary," Harry said equally shortly. "But I've spent the entire night, and half the morning in the hospital without washing or changing; and the remainder of it was spent trying to navigate my way here through an obscenely large traffic jam, so forgive me if I'm not on my knees grovelling."

Towers ignored the comment, and surveyed him for a moment, "How is Ms Evershed?"

"How do you think she is?" Harry replied, but a little surprised by the other man's brief concern. "In absolute agony, and bloody terrified."

"Is there anything I can do?" Towers asked gruffly, surprising Harry even more.

Harry was sorely tempted to answer back in his usual clipped tone, 'Not unless you can turn the clocks back', but the genuine concern on the older man's face halted him, and he replied politely:

"Not at the moment Home Secretary, but I'll let you know."

The Home Secretary nodded serenely for an instant, before sitting up in his chair, and Harry recognised the distinct signs of a lecture. True enough, Towers demanded far more stridently:

"So, are you going to tell me why you allowed an assassination attempt to take place on Gavrik's wife, when your people should have been keeping an eye on her twenty-four seven?"

"I cannot explain what happened," Harry admitted heavily. "Two lower level officers were assigned to keep watch over Elena and her husband, but apparently they did not complete the task that well."

"Lower level officers?" Towers scoffed, bringing a glass of scotch to his lips and almost choking on it in disgust. "Harry, you shouldn't be faffing around with lower level officers for something as important as this- you should be assigning your brightest and best. Erin Watts comes to mind, or even your…what's his name…Levendis?"

"The night before, one of our friends and colleagues was murdered in cold blood- I don't yet know by who but I _will _find out, and I'm certain it's to do with this 'getting in to bed with the Russians' and the agreement- as was Ruth's attack."

"So your excuse for almost letting the wife of the Russian ambassador die, is that your team were grieving?" Towers exclaimed, looking more and more horrified by the second. Inch by inch the older man was rising from his chair and leaning over his desk at Harry, whilst his face had turned almost as red as a ripe tomato. "Harry, I had to answer to an extremely embarrassing call from llya Gavrik himself, demanding to know why his wife had not been assigned top level security and this is the excuse that you're providing me with?"

Harry sighed; now that he heard it, it did seem rather pitiful, but he held his head high and said sharply. "Hence why I then arrived at her hotel room to see if she was alright, and take a statement."

Towers stood with his empty glass and moved over to the drinks cabinet behind him to refill the scotch to an eccentrically generous measure. "Yes, another thing he wasn't too pleased about- being thrown out of his own hotel room whilst you insisted through non-existent protocols that you had to speak to his wife. He's the Russian ambassador for God's sake Harry; you can't just turf him out of his own room." He turned back to Harry with the full scotch glass, and sat on the edge of his wooden desk to talk to Harry levelly, "You do know he's thinking of withdrawing from the British-Russian agreement. And to be honest, I can't blame him. Who would want to make a pact with a country whose people want to kill off his family?"

Harry sighed tiredly, "With all due respect Home Secretary, they did have their own bodyguards as well. I know that Ilya has assigned…his son, Sasha, to make take care of his family whilst in England." Harry closed his eyes briefly as he realised what it meant to him saying 'his son' of Sasha, when he knew full well he was not Ilya's son at all.

"Harry, if you want me to reply to the Gavrik's, not only with a quite frankly lame excuse about your officers grieving, but also accusing Russian security of being useless, then I think you might need a very long holiday after all."

Harry said nothing this time, but looked at his watch whilst Towers was staring desperately in to his scotch for some solace. He swallowed- he hand been gone for an hour and a half. It would be a further hour to return to see Ruth, even after finishing this draining meeting with Towers; he feared what would happen if she woke up before that.

"Not keeping you am I Harry?" Towers growled, now noticing Harry hand resting on his sleeve as he pulled it back to catch a glimpse of his watch. Without waiting for an answer, he continued. "Now this is what is going to happen: you are going to remove those bimbos from whatever division your 'lower level officers' have come from, and provide the Gavrik's with some proper security. You are going to find out who made the attack on Elena Gavrik in the first place, and inform me."

Harry nodded, promising to himself he would find out who had tried to kill Elena, "Of course."

"Also, Ilya Gavrik would like to see whoever is responsible for the attack."

Harry looked up suddenly, knowing the implications of Ilya 'seeing' the person responsible would end up with whoever it was, lying dead on the ground. "Home Secretary, this isn't Stalin's Russia." He said, before adding genuinely. "I want to catch whoever's responsible as much as he does, but we all know what will happen if Ilya gets his hands on them."

"It's his terms for continuing the agreement Harry." The Home Secretary said firmly, in a tone that told him he would hear no more arguments. In that moment, Harry recognised Towers as a true politician- doing what is popular for the country, and not what is exactly right. "You can go."

Harry stared at Towers for a few more moment in incredulity before remembering Ruth and leaping up from his chair, and striding over to the door. Just as he had opened the enormous oak door with its brass handle, and had walked through it, he heard Towers' voice drift through the tiny gap remaining between the door and frame. "Give my best to Ms Evershed."

Harry could not help but smile slightly at the fact that Ruth always seemed to make an impression, even on the British Home Secretary, before he powered himself down the corridor.

* * *

><p>Harry sped along the hospital corridor; the musty, wood-polish smell of Whitehall now eradicated with that horrible disinfectant mix that existed only in hospitals. He was only too aware that he had been gone for two and a half hours, and was desperate to check if Ruth was alright. He manoeuvred himself around an elderly patient who was hobbling along with a Zimmer frame, and hurried along, eventually coming to a stop at Ruth's door. Just as he was about to enter, he spotted Doctor Hadley approaching him, complete with clipboard and metal encased pen, although Harry was quite relieved to see he was smiling. He prayed this predestined good news for Ruth.<p>

"Ah, you're back." He said as he came to a stop in front of him. "Couldn't keep you away for long?"

Harry smiled politely but said nothing, "How is Ruth?"

"It is good news all round I would say," Hadley nodded, double checking his chart. "We completed a second round of tests to make absolutely sure there were no traces of STDs, and they all came back negative. I've spoken to Doctor Wiseman, the gynaecological nurse who completed your scan and she said the foetus is looking pretty much healthy, just a little undernourished, because the mother is as well."

Harry swallowed at this last statement, although he had feared that Ruth's constant illness was due to her not really bothering to eat much, "Is that bad?"

Hadley smiled reassuringly, "It won't be as long as she remembers to eat and drink at sensible times. Late night eating for example, isn't really recommended, and it won't really provide her with the right dietary requirements." Harry nodded; making a mental note to make sure Ruth ate a good healthy meal each day. The Doctor continued, "As long as she does this she'll be fine. Ruth is…" he consulted the chart once again. "Over twelve weeks along, so she should really have been for a scan before then, but it's not too much of a problem because everything seems to be in order anyway. In fact, in a couple of weeks, if she makes an appointment with a gynaecologist, they might be able to tell her the gender of the foetus if she wants to know before the birth."

Again, Harry found himself nodding, trying to comprehend all of this information, on top of itching to open the door to see for himself how Ruth was coping.

"Whilst she was sleeping earlier, I checked for any remnants of vaginal bleeding, and that seemed to have healed quite well. Also, the reason the baby was so healthy was because she doesn't seem to have experienced any internal bleeding, which is an extremely good sign considering her condition when she was brought in. She'll probably be able to go home tomorrow." Harry again had the vision of Ruth lying naked and bleeding on that cold tiled floor, and he forced himself to concentrate on Hadley's face in order to wipe it out.

"Is she awake yet?" Harry asked, placing his hand on the doorknob and turned it slowly without waiting for a reply.

"Last time I checked, she was still asl-"

Harry felt his heart stop with an incredible thump as he cast his eyes over the scene before him. Doctor Hadley also stopped midsentence to take in the spectacle. Ruth was absolutely nowhere to be seen; her bed was rumpled and the duvet in a tangle, but there was no sign of any imprint on the mattress to indicate she had been there recently. The saline drip which she had been connected to still stood there resolutely, but the wire snaking down was no longer connected to Ruth's hand, and the tubing was leaking unceremoniously onto the dampened wooden floor; it made a furious eerie beeping noise as it demanded to be hooked up to the patient again.

"I don't believe this." Doctor Hadley muttered.

Harry felt his heart hammering once again as his blood pressure rose considerably in his panic to find out where Ruth had gone. He closed his horrified open mouth only minimally before whirling round and demanding: "Where the hell is she?"

Hadley looked as baffled and horrified as Harry did, and he mirrored his open mouth for a moment, "I…I'm sorry, she was asleep when we last checked on her-"

"Which was when?" Harry growled, his voice level rising considerably so that people outside the doorway in the corridor tuned to stare at the commotion.

Doctor Hadley ignored Harry's comment and tore up the corridor towards the secretarial nurse's station, "Ruth Evershed in Room 7, has she had anyone come to take her elsewhere for any tests?"

Harry continued to watch in horror from the doorframe as the secretary shook her head and insisted Ruth should still be there. He prayed it was there was an ordinary explanation for this and that she had gone off in search of a toilet or something, but her condition mere hours before worried him considerably- the poor girl had barely been able to move, let alone stand and walk anywhere, especially without the assistance of the drip, which still lay discarded and leaking. Ruth's state had been nothing short of devastated and Harry dreaded to think where she could possibly have gone in that condition. He felt his heart grow cold suddenly as it occurred to him she might have been taken by an extremely unwelcome, far from friendly force. Just as he was about to pull his mobile out to call someone…anyone for assistance, he saw Dimitri round the corner, hands in his pockets, and looking far too unperturbed for his liking. Harry immediately rounded on him.

"Where is Ruth?" he demanded urgently, unable prevent the cold manner in his voice, at the thought that his younger officer had let something happen to her on his watch.

Dimitri stared back bewildered and open-mouthed, "Wha…? She…she should be in…"

Upon seeing the empty room, Dimitri's eyes widened and automatically he looked up and down the corridor, as if expecting to see Ruth casually strolling towards him. "Shit." He yelled at himself. "I…I don't know Harry…I only went to the loo. I checked with the Doctor that she was asleep before I went."

Harry let out a growl at the younger officer's stupidity, "When was that?"

Dimitri blinked a few times, as if trying to focus, but completely unable to comprehend what was suddenly happening, "Erm…about…about fifteen minutes ago."

"Fifteen minutes?" Harry yelled uncontrollably. "It takes you _fifteen minutes_ to go to the toilet. Fifteen minutes during which something may have happened to Ruth." He turned away; his head in cradled his right hand, whilst his breathing continued erratically. "I knew I should never have left her."

Dimitri stood helplessly by his side, ashen faced and completely horrified at what he might have let happen.

"She said wh…Well get someone up there!" he suddenly heard Doctor Hadley yelling at a subordinate nurse, who nodded, looking deeply flustered and she tore off towards the staircase. Harry charged up to the harrowed-looking Doctor.

"What? What is it?"

Hadley starred at Harry for a few moments, as if pre-judging what his reaction would be, before he took a few calming breaths and said: "It seems that a young nurse on the top floor saw someone fitting Ruth's description, and in quite a bad way heading for the very top level of the building."

"What's the very top level?" Harry demanded, his eyes closing automatically, fearing he already knew the answer.

Hadley swallowed, "The roof."

Harry breathing was so erratic now that he could not even remember what it was to be calm. He whirled round to face his equally horrified, but ashamed officer:

"Get her to find out from someone about CCTV. Now." Harry snapped at Dimitri, who nodded at once and began to speak rapidly to the secretary at the nurse's station, occasionally slamming his hand down on the desk to emphasise his point. Harry then turned his wrath back to Doctor Hadley, who still looked absolutely mortified at the prospect of one of his patients going missing; on the roof no less.

"Why the hell didn't the nurse stop her if she looked like she was in pain?" Harry growled, whilst the sounds of the secretary demanding security on the phone rattled through his ears.

"There was a patient who was arresting in the next room. They needed all hands on deck." Hadley murmured; his confident exterior completely smashed to smithereens in a matter of minutes; his fists were clenched tightly around his clipboard so that his knuckles had become white. Dimitri charged to Harry's side again, deathly pale and gulping loudly:

"Harry…security…they…Ruth's…she's on the-"

There was no need for Harry to even listen to the rest of the sentence; fear gripped his already emotionally weary heart, as he began to speed down the corridor.

"Do you often let rape victims casually wander out of their rooms towards the roof?" he demanded, already approaching the staircase. "After everything she's been through, you can already imagine what her temptation will be. If anything happens to her…"

But Harry did not finish the threat directed at both Hadley and Dimitri as he broke into a run towards the door leading to the upper levels, and smashed through it without hesitation.

**Dun dun dun...is Ruth ok? Will she have already have jumped? Will Harry get there in time? What will he do if he does? Please review...and you'll find out. :)**


	16. Chapter 16

**Sorry it's been so long between updates recently, but too many things have been happening at once, and I'm only just beginning to catch up. Anyway, I'm glad you all liked the last chapter, and thank you so much to all you wonderful people who reviewed :) So I suppose the main question now then is whether Ruth's going to give up or not...read and you'll find out. Please R&R!**

As Harry tried to rush up half a dozen flights of stairs, it occurred to him briefly that the lift may have been quicker, but the he knew he could have stood the waiting. When running and panting for breath, at least he had something to focus on other than the footage of the woman he loved taking a swan dive over the edge of a ten storey building playing continuously in slow motion in his head. Tears blinded his eyes as he fought his way up the steps, despite his body's protests for him to stop and rest for his heart's sake, but Harry willed himself on, knowing that if he did not get there in time, his heart would shred anyway. Gasping for air, he eventually halted as his body collided with the fire escape door onto the roof. There was a large grey bar indicating it was a push door; however Harry barely touched it before it swung open, releasing brash, powerful, relentless blasts of wind against his body; the freezing air was like ice to his skin, but Harry propelled himself through the doorway. Stopping just outside, he spotted her.

She was tilting over the flimsy metal barrier, just inches away from the very edge; her hands gripping the bars with as much strength as she could summon, to stop herself collapsing, or worse, falling over the edge. His primary impulse was to dash as fast as possible over to where she was standing and drag her safely away from imminent harm, but he could tell, even from his three-quarter view of her, that her gaze was fixed intensely on the view of London before her. He feared that if he disturbed her greatly, she would be startled and become distressed again; the worst case scenario only too clear in his mind. For the moment, Harry was just relieved that she was still safe on the right side of the barrier, and he made his decision to walk slowly towards her, taking care not to disturb her. As he neared her, he could see tracks of tears illuminating her ashen cheeks; her eyes were wan and fearful and Harry had the distinct impression she was replaying the events of the night before repeatedly in her head. She would not be able to help herself, being the brilliant, beautiful analyst she was, she would always scrutinise every detail, however harrowing the task was for her. Her tiny, fragile hands were gripping so tightly to the bars that he could tell she was literally holding up her entire body weight. Harry purposely dragged his feet slightly along the concrete surface as he came within inches of her, to make her aware of his presence. He could tell it had worked effectively when she visibly tensed, and her jaw set slightly.

"Ruth?" Harry said so softly, it was almost like a soothing caress to tame a wild animal. He repeated her name when she did not turn, mindful that she might not have heard him over the raging wind. "Ruth, what are you doing?"

Although he waited or Ruth to reply, he received no such thing. The only indication she gave that she had heard him was the way her shoulders sagged slightly in relief and her jaw became a little less tense. However her grip remained tight on the barrier in front of her. Harry wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms at that moment, but she looked so lost and forlorn, something in his heart told him not to.

"Ruth, you're freezing cold being up here in nothing but your nightie- come down."

Sure enough, as Harry looked closely at her, he saw that she literally was wearing nothing but the flowery customary hospital gown he had helped her into earlier. Her small feet remained bare and chilled on the icy concrete floor, after she had not been brought in to the hospital wearing any socks or shoes, and the nurses had apparently not provided her with anything. Her skin was scarily white all over, except her nose which had a red tinge from the freezing cold.

"I'm fine." Ruth said in such a small voice, Harry knew she was anything but. He had not really been expecting her to reply but he had thankfully been at a loss at what else to say and so had just caught the words before he said something else vaguely unhelpful.

"You were hooked up to a drip for a good reason Ruth," he said gently. "You lost so much blood, you were severely dehydrated-"

"Stop criticising me!" Ruth suddenly snapped without warning. Her eyes had screwed themselves shut at her own words, in apology for her sudden outburst. Harry, who had been gauging some sort of reaction, nodded, even though it was not the one he had been expecting.

"I wasn't." he said simply.

Ruth did not initially reply. She reopened her eyes and stared out over the London skyline again, the daylight reflecting in those usually bright and beautiful blue eyes. He hated seeing them in such a grey and lifeless fashion. It was as if the light and the fight she had maintained over so many years had finally been defeated and blown out of her. Yet then he heard her whisper so quietly he almost missed it over the noise of the wind, "I…I know."

Feeling it was now safe to do so, and that some peaceful ground had been established between them, Harry nudged himself forward ever so slowly towards where Ruth was standing. She did not flinch but she still did not allow herself to look at him.

"I…"Ruth stuttered, as if trying to comprehend what she wanted to say. "I couldn't bear it any longer."

"Couldn't bear what?" Harry asked, and when she shifted slightly, he cursed himself inwardly for interrupting her whilst she was trying with difficulty to explain herself.

After a few beats Ruth took in a few deep breaths and said slowly, "Everyone…I know everyone is being so kind and…and understanding. But I…I can't bear it. A nurse came in and said…she said she knew I was feeling awful…that she understood." She turned her head slightly in Harry's direction but still refused to meet his gaze. "But they don't. They don't know how I feel. They don't know how it feels to…"

When he was certain she had finished speaking this time, Harry nodded in agreement, wishing he had been there to send the nurse on her way with some rather harsh words. "No they don't." he said quietly, finally moving to stand directly beside her.

"I…I keep telling myself to stop feeling sorry for myself." Ruth continued, as if realising that now she had started talking she could not stop herself from unravelling everything on her mind. "That I have no right to feel his way when so many more women, and children have gone through what I have…sometimes everyday." She bowed her head slightly in shame and stared miserably at the ground so many feet down below. "But…but then I woke up and…and Dimitri was gone…and so were you, and I though maybe…just maybe you had-"

"I had to go and see the Home Secretary for a couple of hours," Harry said quickly, desperate for her to understand he had absolutely no intention of abandoning her. "I came back as quickly as I could. Dimitri, prat that he is, went to the toilet without telling someone to alert you first." Gently, ever so gently, Harry reached out his hand towards one of Ruth's white, freezing hands and squeezed it gently. "I wasn't about to leave you, I can promise you that. I'm back now." Ruth nodded, but still said nothing, continuing to stare disturbingly at the ground below. "And you have every right to feel sorry for yourself Ruth…you have every right to feel scared."

Ruth did not reply, but Harr thought he felt her fingers relinquish their grip ever so slightly on the railings. For a few moments they stood in a companionable silence staring out over the city before them. Harry continued to squeeze Ruth's white hand to try to eke some sort of warmth into them.

"Why did you come up here Ruth?" Harry asked tenderly, without criticism. "You could barely move earlier and then you try to climb all the way to the roof?"

"I…" Ruth began; her breathing starting to become uneven again, as she replayed everything once again in her mind. "After everything that we've…and after last night…and seeing the baby like that…you telling me you lo…well it all got too much."

Harry nodded gently, trying his best to let Ruth know he understood she needed him there, however much it embarrassed her to admit it. "But why the roof?"

Ruth continued to stare down in to the dark abyss of the crowded street below, her face scrunched up in concentration as if she was trying to find the right words. "I…I suppose…the roof is a good place to think. It's a good place to feel safe because…because anyone can be threatening to hurt you and…and there's still a way out."

Harry's grip on Ruth's hand tightened automatically, as he once again considered the mere possibility of this beautiful woman throwing herself over the edge of a fifty foot building.

"We…" Ruth continued, drawing Harry's attention back to her immediately. "We used to sometimes meet…talk on the roof at Thames House…I don't know if you remember-"

"I do." Harry replied swiftly before she had even had a chance to finish her sentence. The fierceness of his reply caused her to finally look up at him, although she still did not quite meet his eyes, her own straying to stare intently at his now rather grimy shirt collar.

"There was…there was that one time when you…when you first asked me on a date." Ruth whispered, and Harry was glad of the fact that he was so close now that he could still hear what she was saying. "I think it might've been…might have been the happiest I've ever felt, and I…I suppose I needed to find something like that to…to hold on to right now-"

Harry halted Ruth's rambling justifications with a brief squeeze of his hand and a gentle smile, "It's alright Ruth," he said quietly. "You don't need to explain yourself to me. If you felt you needed to be up here, then you needed to be up here." For some reason he felt a little warmth rush through him as Ruth nodded gratefully at him, though with her eyes fixed on his collar. His smile widened just a little and he bent a little lower so that she could see his kindly expression, "Just don't do anything too drastic."

A brief, tiny smidgeon of a smile ghosted across her face as she saw his ridiculous expression; a smile so fleeting you would have missed it if you had not ben watching carefully. "I won't." she promised softly. Without warning she suddenly shivered violently, causing both hands to slip slightly from the barrier, almost causing her to collapse to the floor. Harry darted forwards and caught her quickly and lowered her into a sitting position so that her back was resting against the flimsy barrier. In doing so he felt how excruciatingly cold the skin on her arms was to touch and guessed that she would be just as freezing everywhere else. He quickly removed his coat from around himself and wrapped it around her. He felt inexplicably glad when she did not push it away stubbornly and instead snuggled gratefully into its warmth, allowing Harry to cover most of her body, including her icy feet.

"You and my coat are getting to be a bit of a habit you know." Harry whispered gently against her ear as he moved away after finally covering the entirety of her body. However, this time Ruth did not raise even the ghost of a smile. In fact, she looked almost the opposite. Her face had gone even paler than it had been before, her eyes even greyer, haunted and fearful, and her lip was trembling ever so slightly.

"Ruth?" Harry whispered quickly. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

As if in slow motion, Ruth's head turned agonisingly sluggishly towards him, and even when her eyes finally met his for the first time during the conversation, it was at least a minute before she spoke. When she did, she sounded more lost and frightened than she ever had done, so much so he almost had trouble distinguishing that it was Ruth. "I don't know what to do Harry."

"What do you mean?" Harry probed gently, though in a way that indicated he was not pushing her.

"I…"Ruth said, and Harry was horrified to see tears brewing in her eyes once again. "I don't know how to…how to move on from this." Harry felt his heart sinking as she asked him a question- the big boss on the Grid who usually had all the answers and had the ability to remedy any problem- she asked him a question he had absolutely no idea how to respond to. He had no clue as to what the answer was. "The Doctor said…he said that I would recover in time…but I can't see it. I can't see how I can."

Again, Harry found himself at a loss for words; there was nothing he could say which would aid her in any way. He simply sat there listening as she tried to make sense of everything.

"And…and I don't know what to do with…a baby. Ruth continued, as silent tears slowly dribbled down her cheeks. "I never thought about…motherhood. At first I thought about how it would affect the child…how it would be born in to this world…how we're going to get into trouble for creating it. And then when I was standing here just now…I realised that it's a life Harry. It's going to grow, and eat, and lose its first teeth and ride a bike for the first time. It's going to go to school, and get into trouble for doing things it shouldn't and it's going to get into a relationship. It's going to…it's going to grow up and it's…it's so much to comprehend."

Ruth sniffed so loudly and drew in such an uncertain, shaky breath that Harry could no longer bear it and he shuffled closer to her and wrapped his arms around her tightly, pleased when her head fell without complaint onto his shoulder. "We'll find a way Ruth," Harry promised her fiercely, knowing he would do anything in this moment for her or their child. "I promise you we'll find a way."

It suddenly clicked in Harry's brain that the sonogram picture the gynaecological nurse had handed to him was still in his trouser pocket, and hesitantly, initially unsure of whether this was what she needed at that moment; he drew it out and passed it to her silently. Equally silently, Ruth surfaced one hand from underneath the coat, wiped her face quickly and took the tiny sonogram from him. She stared at it for a good long minute, her head slightly lifting from Harry's shoulder to concentrate on the image, before she let it fall lightly back into its original place. Still she clung tightly to the sonogram, and she suddenly said with such fierce passion, Harry wanted to kiss her fully on the lips there and then: "I don't care what MI5 says. I want to keep it."

Harry smiled slightly and compromised by planting a kiss on the top of her hair, surprising himself by how happy he was at the prospect of having a baby with Ruth, "Then we will."

The two of them sat against the barrier in silence, their eyes drifting over every part of the sonogram image. Harry moved his hand to hold the image, allowing Ruth to withdraw hers back into the warmth of Harry's coat.

"Doctor Hadley seems to think you will be well enough to go home tomorrow." Harry said lightly, thinking this would be relatively good news to her. Yet, to his surprise and horror she suddenly tensed against his arms, her breathing becoming faster and more erratic again. "Ruth? What's wrong?"

Ruth seemed to have returned to her deathly pale state after her brief stint of strength, but despite the fact that she was obviously anything but fine, she said quietly, "Nothing. Nothing I'm fine. I'll be fine."

"Ruth, what's wrong?" Harry pressed, troubled by the fact that unbidden tears were sliding slowly down her cheeks once again. She shook her head furiously in response, desperately reaching her hand out from under the coat again to scrub away the salty droplets.

"I…I can't…please…I can't." Ruth whispered suddenly, those grey tortured eyes now staring fixedly at the ground.

"Can't what?" Harry asked gently, rubbing her back soothingly.

"I…can't go back there." Ruth cried quietly. "I can't go inside and see what happened again. I…I keep seeing them over and over again…in my head. I keep seeing them laugh, and…and the warning…"

"Warning?" Harry said sharply, catching the sentence. "What warning Ruth? Did they threaten you?" He felt anger boiling up once again in the pit of his stomach, and he promised himself in that moment not to stop until the people responsible for this travesty were safely dead in their graves.

Ruth's eyes were wide and frightened and she whispered, "They…they said for me to pass on to you that…that you were to leave this…this case alone or…or the same thing would happen again. Only next time…it would be much worse."

Harry forced himself to grit his teeth to stop a roar of anger escaping his mouth, and in doing so, taking his fury out on Ruth. Instead, he tightened his arms around her protectively and rocked her gently, "No," Harry spat furiously. "There isn't going to be a next time! They are never going to touch you again, I promise you that! They're not even going to so much as look at you again. And when I find them, they aren't going to look at anything ever again."

However, Harry's outburst of pure fury seemed to distress Ruth even further and the silent tears turned into sobs. Guiltily, Harry ordered himself to swallow his anger until a more appropriate time and he concentrated his efforts on soothing Ruth gently.

"I won't let anyone ever hurt you again Ruth," Harry promised her quietly. "And don't you think for one minute I'm going to let you set foot in that house, at least until full security measures have been set up. You're stay with me for a few days, at least until things have settled down and been sorted out."

Ruth's head suddenly shot up in alarm, "Harry, don't feel you have to go out of your way because you feel sorry for me." She whispered desperately. "I've already taken up so much of your ti-"

"Ruth," Harry said fiercely. "If you so much as finish that sentence, I swear I will not be happy. I wasn't lying when I said I love you earlier. All of it is true, Ruth, and I am more than happy to help."

"Exactly," Ruth whispered, tears still falling silently down her cheeks, from her damp eyelashes. "It's not a good idea- I'm not sure I can-"

"Ruth," he assured her gently. "I won't ever hurt you, or take advantage of you. You need to learn to ask for help when you need it. And what is more, I am not letting you set foot in that house, or a safe house for that matter, by yourself after all this, that's for sure."

Slowly, Ruth looked down at the ground again, her fingers twisting noticeably underneath his coat. Her tears had now finally stopped; Harry apparently successful in placating her with the thought that she would not have to face the setting of her attack just at the moment. Ruth considered what he had said for a few more minutes before slowly, ever so slowly glancing up to meet his eyes and nodding softly but briefly, "Thank you."

Harry smiled gently back at her, "Then I'll pick you up tomorrow."

Ruth looked up at him quickly, eyes widening just a little, "Are you going now?"

Harry squeezed her ever so gently; just enough to indicate he was not leaving to go anywhere, but not enough to hurt or frighten her in any way. "I'm afraid for the time being you're stuck with me. Later on, when you're sleeping alright I'll probably go to the Grid and check on what Erin and Calum have for me, and then I'll go home briefly and prepare the spare room for you."

Ruth's brows furrowed little, but she did not say anything in reply. Harry was being so kind; she felt it prudent not to mention she found it difficult to actually shut her eyes and sleep, what with images of those four men assailing her thoughts. Harry stared at her, partly wondering what was slipping through her mind, and partly attempting to take in all that had happened since yesterday up to that moment. He suddenly felt Ruth shiver violently some more, even whilst wrapped in the warmth of his coat, and he tugged on the barrier behind him to tug himself to his feet decisively.

"Come on," he said softly. "Let's get you back inside. Despite what you say, I'm not a complete imbecile- I can still tell you're freezing out here."

Ruth did not raise a smile at his light comment, and simply remained huddled on the ground wrapped in his large black coat. Her eyes were suddenly filled with shame and embarrassment, and she kept her head bowed so she did not need to look at him.

"Ruth, I know you feel better up here, but you'll catch your death if you sta-"

She had tensed a little at his words, even though they were filled with kindness and tenderness, and Harry bent down once again to face her.

"It's not that." Ruth whispered, frightened eyes fixed firmly on the sonogram picture which had now been left firmly in her possession. " I can't…I mean…I don't think I can get up and…get all the way down there again...like this."

Harry felt his heart break once again at the fragility in her voice, and true enough, he took in her weakened, shaking form. Slowly he reached his hand out to enclose around hers once more. "Then let me help you?"

It was a question rather than a statement. It was an offering that meant so much more than just the words that were actually said; a promise from Harry to support her through everything that was to come, not out of pity, but out of utter and complete love. The gentleness in his proposition seemed to stir something in Ruth's mind and she slowly brought her head up to meet his eyes, which portrayed everything his voice did, and more. Just as she had done when he had first found her lying on the cold stone kitchen floor, Ruth squeezed Harry's hand lightly to gesture her gratefulness, and Harry smiled softly in response. He moved his hands underneath Ruth's armpits and ever so tenderly, lifted her from her sitting position so that she was standing, still with the coat wrapped tightly around her, and the sonogram clutched in her left hand, but leaning heavily into him for support. Gradually, the pair made their way across the concrete roof, now oblivious to the raging wind, and towards the door leading to the staircase.

* * *

><p>"Harry!" Erin called from across the grid as he entered through the pods, and made towards the team's little huddle. Erin had been standing chatting quietly to Calum, and Dimitri, whom Harry had sent back to the Grid in disgrace hours earlier. As he approached, he moved his hands tiredly over his eyes, with the realisation he had been running on nothing but adrenaline that day. The fright of Ruth leaning over the barrier on the hospital roof had been enough to sustain his consciousness for several hours, but now that he had left her to sleep, he found himself feeling inexplicably exhausted.<p>

"How is she Harry?" Erin demanded as soon a he reached the small huddle. "Dimitri told us about…the roof incident."

"Did he?" Harry asked dryly, not meeting Dimitri's eyes, although had he done so, he would have seen nothing but endless guilt and remorse. In fact, the young officer resembled Ruth more and more, with his sickly pallor and pale skin. "Well she's sleeping now…and then I'll take her home tomorrow."

He had been expecting surprised comments about him being the one to take her home, but there were none. On the contrary, all three of the younger officers nodded mutely before Erin said, squeezing Dimitri's arm gently: "Dimitri went over to Ruth's house and made sure everything was cleared up, and security was spot on. Still I'm not sure she should-"

"I'm not taking her back to that house until we find out who exactly is responsible for this," Harry growled. "No- I'm taking her…elsewhere."

"Where?" Calum asked, whilst both Erin and Dimitri closed there eyes briefly at the insensitivity demonstrated by their considerably younger-minded colleague.

"My house." Harry said shortly, raising his eyebrows daringly at anyone who cared to object. All officers thankfully kept their mouths shut. Erin stepped over to the nearest computer and beckoned Harry over to join her, although both Dimitri and Calum did so as well.

Erin rapidly typed the required code into the keyboard and a grey and white image flickered onto the screen. It took only a few seconds for Harry to recognise it as a CCTV image of Ruth's street.

"Calum found the CCTV for Ruth's street within seconds and he's currently running body movement and finical analysis, so we'll see if any matches come out." She indicated the screen as little movement appeared for several moments. "This is just minutes before the four of them arrived."

"Weren't they in a vehicle?" Harry demanded, pinning his hopes on identifying Ruth's assailants this way. As soon as the words escaped his mouth he watched the screen as an unsuspecting transit van pulled calmly into the street and parked just opposite Ruth's house. He continued to view the footage, appalled as the four attackers slipped out of the vehicle and strode calmly to Ruth's front door, before one knocked. Harry looked desperately towards Erin for a reply to his question, upon seeing that all four of them were covered from head to toe in black clothing and balaclavas, so for it was virtually impossible to identify them as quickly as he wanted to. Erin however, shook her head gravely. "I'm so sorry Harry. The van they used was found burnt out in a back street only a few miles away this morning- stolen from a nearby car dealer. We couldn't really expect them to make a rookie mistake like that, could we?"

"We can always hope." Harry growled bitterly, every inch of him telling his eyes to pull away from the screen as he watched the door open slowly and the front man of the group shove her roughly inside. "Turn it off." He snapped suddenly, turning away to avert his eyes from the disgusting footage put to him. Erin reached automatically for the keyboard, but Dimitri was faster, and he slammed his thumb against the computer monitor, unable to watch any more. All three of the younger officers stared awkwardly at Harry who was still turned away, one hand clasped heavily over his forehead and eyelids; none of them wanted to embarrass him by witnessing one of his rare moments of emotional weakness. Instead, Calum coughed slightly and strode over to his computer on the other side of the desk to check on the recognition software, whilst Erin looked over concernedly at Dimitri, who was looking guiltier than ever. Slowly, ever so slowly, Harry wiped his hand tiredly down his face before taking a deep breath and turning round. He glanced round at each one of them, all of whom were eyeing him warily, and his eyes flashed briefly; a state that they all recognised as transforming back into 'Boss Mode'.

"Calum, any luck yet?" he asked sharply, turning fully to face the rather surprised younger officer.

Calum returned his full attention to the screen and analysed its contents with indifference, "Sorry," he said genuinely. "Nothing yet. The program's fantastic stuff, but it takes a long while to achieve a result."

Harry sighed heavily, but nodded gratefully. His eyes snapped up to meet Dimitri's, who still looked the picture of guilt and remorse. "Dimitri," he snapped sharply, nodding his head towards his office. "A word. Now."

With that he strode off in the direction of his office, leaving behind Dimitri whose eyes and face were filed with dread. The young officer looked around at both Erin and Calum, but the were both crouched over Calum's computer, already immersed in their own conversation,; he turned automatically to Tariq's terminal, only to remember everything and he tugged his head back round again quickly, with a heavy and battered heart. Harry had already taken his coat off and hung it on the metal stand in his office, before Dimitri entered through the open door, looking rather as if he was about to be marched off to his hanging. For a few moments Harry said nothing at all and walked purposely over to the new drinks cabinet and poured himself a generous portion of whiskey. To Dimitri's surprise, Harry then lifted a second glass and poured out another generous measure, turning and handing it to him. Dimitri took it after a moment of hesitation, taking the drink and the little curt nod Harry gave him as the glass touched his fingertips, as a gesture of forgiveness.

Harry took a large appreciative gulp of whiskey, and swallowed it, all the while observing the young officer before him. He knew he had been wrong to react in such way towards Dimitri, despite his worry for Ruth; the young man had offered to stay out of concern for Ruth, not out of duty, and that was a rare thing in an officer these days-general kindness was a rare thing in the present day. With Tariq gone, and Ruth out of action, Dimitri's assuredness had clearly been deflated of late, and it showed in the paleness of his skin. As if he had been reading Harry's mind, Dimitri suddenly swallowed a gulp of whiskey, and said in a tone which bore the weight of all the world, "Do you ever feel like you just can't go on sometimes Harry?"

Something triggered In the back of Harry' mind at this demand, and Harry found himself recalling a time when he had asked more or less exactly the same question to a woman who currently needed the same advice she had given him. Harry felt his mouth upturn slightly as he remembered this, and he nodded at the validity of Dimitri's question:

"I once asked that same question to a very, very wise person," Harry stated, placing his glass on the table and giving Dimitri his undivided attention, "And the answer they gave me was this: 'can't go on- must go on'."

Dimitri nodded slowly, and suddenly Harry saw his officer stand just that little bit straighter, with his shoulders drawn back defiantly, "Who said that?"

Harry smiled slightly as he felt his mouth open to say fondly, "Ruth."

Dimitri was about to return the knowing smile when both men suddenly started as they heard Erin's voice echo urgently from across the grid. Dimitri almost dropped his glass and he shoved it hastily on the desk beside Harry's papers, before following Harry in a dash from the office towards Erin as she yelled: "Harry! Harry, quickly!"

**What has happened? What have they found out? What will happen next when Harry takes Ruth home with him, and will things be painfully awkward between them? Review and I promise you will find out...xx :)**


	17. Chapter 17

**Sorry for the long wait between updates- as usual it's work related issues preventing me from posting. But hey- here's the latest installment. Some more comfort, and the plot thickens. I'm hiping to slip in little slivers of fluff in between he angst in the next few chapters. Please R&R!**

Harry flung his office door back open and charged across the grid to where both Erin and Calum were sitting, Dimitri hot at his heels. As he neared them, he saw Calum, slightly flushed with both pride and adrenaline at making some sort of discovery, whilst Erin was muttering into his ear quietly; both stared fixedly at the computer before them.

"What is it?" Harry demanded sharply. "Have you identified them?"

Erin looked only briefly at him before nodding her head towards the computer screen, indicating to Harry to join her. He followed Dimitri round to where she was standing, anxiety bubbling like acid within his stomach; he realised he was so tense at the possibility he was about to discover Ruth's attackers, his fingers were clenched tightly into fists, and his teeth were grating noisily inside his mouth.

"We've found one of them." Erin said softly, eyeing Harry with an expression that was clearly meant to be placating, but instead displayed a wide-eyed nervousness, as if she was waiting for him to visibly blow up, which did not lessen Harry's irritation.

"Correction," Calum muttered under his breath from the position he held in front of the computer screen. "I found one of them. You stood over me and _told_ me to find them."

"And you won't be finding anyone for much longer if you don't stop acting so childishly." Harry suddenly snapped, his anger unable to withstand the confines that he had carefully erected ever since finding Ruth lying bleeding on the cold kitchen floor. The fact that Calum was arguing like a six year old, when there were so much more important matters at hand, brought unabated fury rising rapidly within him. "In case you hadn't noticed Calum, Tariq Masood is dead because he discovered something these bastards didn't want us to know. Ruth is in the bloody hospital, terrified out of her wits because of what they did to her, and she's still petrified they're going to come back and do more damage. They threatened to come back and do it again Calum, and you're sitting there arguing pettily like a primary school child!"

Harry's voice had since risen dramatically in volume, and other workers on the grid were turning to stare curiously at the four of them. Yet Harry continued, unabashed, to glare at Calum through narrowed eyes. Dimitri and Erin fidgeted uncomfortably at their boss's sudden outburst, whilst Calum lowered his head slightly, cheeks tinged pink and having the good grace to look ashamed under Harry's direct glare.

"Anyway Harry," Erin continued hastily, placing her hand on his elbow to bring him back to the present matter. "Calum analysed the CCTV footage we did have; obviously they've been trained enough to not reveal too much of their faces, or any distinguishing features that might help us identify them, except one of them made a tiny slip up." She leant over the keyboard and deftly tapped a few more buttons, which set the on-screen camera image into motion. Harry gritted his teeth and reluctantly cast his eyes over the footage for a second time. He was on the verge of turning away as the four men cleared themselves from the transit van, when Erin suddenly leant forwards over a surprised Calum, and hit the pause button.

"There." She said triumphantly, jabbing a finger at the computer screen to indicate the last man to exit the van. Initially, Harry could not see anything, and so he had to lean forwards to squint at the image; Dimitri doing the same just behind him. Harry's weariness was suddenly long gone as adrenaline washed through his tired body; his stomach lurched with a mixture of hope, and nervousness, on top of the anger that had already been maintained since his first time watching the footage. It was such a small detail no one could possibly have noticed unless they were specifically looking for it. Just underneath Erin's finger was the head of the fourth and final man clambering out of the van; mask half way over the back of his head, yet for that split second the frontal part of his face was quite clearly visible.

"His name is Joseph Willard," Erin continued, as Dimitri released a tiny gasp behind Harry to show that he had just viewed the same thing. "Born in California, November 1975, the son of a local salesman, and by all accounts he has a pretty straight record. He attended Harvard and then climbed up the ranks of the Intelligence Services."

Harry's head shot up from his fixed glare at the computer screen, and stared desperately at Erin. "What?"

Erin bit her lip, but did not avert her gaze from Harry. Instead she sighed heavily and folded her arms in resolution to not fidget under Harry's beady eye. Yet Harry could see various thoughts revolve and pass through the working cogs in her brain, pondering whether she was doing the right thing confiding information in Harry, whilst he was so closely related to the case. However, Harry had no time for her momentary clashes of guilt, after seeing Ruth so fragile earlier, and the intensity of his glare eventually broke his young officer.

"Willard works for the CIA, and has done so loyally for about 10 years. He's got an immaculate record." Erin said slowly, her cheeks tinging pink slightly, a tell-tale sign to Harry that she still was not revealing all.

"Erin, whatever it is you are not telling me, you say it now." Harry growled. "As I have already had to mention to Calum, I've got a dead colleague, and a seriously injured one. If you withhold information necessary to finding out who is behind her attack, then I swear, even if my position here is strictly temporary, that you will descend the ranks of MI5 very quickly indeed."

Erin flushed a little more, "Harry, you are emotionally involved in this, and we all know your track record when that happens. The person responsible usually ends up with a bullet in his chest. And I won't have that blood on my hands-"

"Erin, come on." Dimitri suddenly uttered, looking almost as furious as Harry; he too wanted to avenge Ruth's violent attack. "After what this guy did to Ruth, do you honestly think his needs come first?"

At Erin's still stubborn expression, and firmly folded barricading arms, Calum suddenly piped up for the first time since Harry's degrading rant, and muttered, "Come on Erin…it's Ruth we're talking about."

The remark was so simple, yet so effective and true; Erin turned to look at Calum with wide eyes, and considered the statement. Although she did not know Ruth very well yet, she considered her easily likeable, and in truth, Erin had never met a more kindly, caring person in a job as harrowing as theirs. If she was to disregard a rule for anyone within her fist few months as Section Chief, it would have to be for Ruth. Slowly, Erin lowered her arms, clicked her tongue regrettably and sighed:

"Willard works directly under James Coaver."

Although, Harry had been half expecting this statement, it still came as a terrific blow to both his confidence and his pride. He almost felt as if he had received a very physical blow to the stomach in addition to his mental conflictions, as it lurched uncontrollably at the prospect of Jim Coaver, the man whom he had trusted with his life and secrets for years during the Cold War, being somehow involved with Ruth's attack. Terrible, unadulterated guilt rippled through him as he remembered poor Ruth's constant reprimands at him for being compromised by his loyalty to both Coaver and the Gavriks'. Yet he had refused to listen de to of his own damn pride, his self-assurance and his confidence that his judgement over Coaver was spot-on, and that the man was completely trustworthy. For an instant, he prayed that possibly Jim Coaver was not involved with the incident at all; that it might have been one of his subordinates going rogue. For once, he prayed that Ruth Evershed, the most beautiful, marvellous, brilliantly intelligent analyst he had ever had, was wrong.

"Wait," Dimitri muttered, looking horrified at the very thought of what the evidence was insinuating. "We're saying that the CIA was behind the rape?"

Erin sighed, and looked at Harry who was still standing stock still in shock, "Not necessarily," she reasoned, desperate to comfort a slowly whitening Harry. "I mean for one thing, what could they possibly get out of it? The CIA has better things to do than launch quite an operational task on a British Intelligence Officer's house, purely to steal a few files, and…well"

"Violate her." Harry spat with such venom in his voice that everyone jumped slightly. He moved his hand to shield his eyes from view, before turning away from them slightly; the signal to all of them to look away.

"Look," Erin sighed, turning away from the screen, whilst Calum performed the honours of removing the image from the screen. "I know Jim Coaver was a friend of yours back in Berlin, and we don't even know for sure he was involved. We've identified one of the men; there's no saying the rest of them will be CIA, or even if they are, that they were acting under Coaver's orders."

"Erin," Harry growled, so dangerously quietly, she subconsciously took a step backwards. "How likely do you think it is that he is not involved, when the last words Tariq uttered seemed to be 'Coaver', and just as Ruth was investigating him and his involvement in this case, she's attacked and the files she was looking at containing information about him, were stolen?"

Dimitri, Erin and Calum all stared at their boss, mouths agape. Erin was the first to speak; this time her tone was no longer soft and placating but hard and angry:

"We never knew any of this Harry? You didn't even tell us that James Coaver was being investigated?" she demanded.

"He wasn't…officially," Harry growled, closing his eyes at the unbearable guilt as once again the image of a bleeding Ruth was hammered into his mind. "But Ruth…had a hunch and wanted to…investigate on her own."

"Except that you didn't believe her." Dimitri suddenly interjected angrily, folding his arms across his chest in a challenging way. "Which was why you sent her home early yesterday in the first place?" Harry's gut-wrenching silence was damning.

"I don't believe this." Erin whispered incredulously, before turning away and seizing chunks of her own hair in an attempt to calm herself. "You know before I came, I heard that you and Ruth always lived and acted in your own private world here on the grid. I know now they were right. Except this time it led to-"

"Leave it Erin." Calum said loudly, stopping the young woman in her tracks. She was about to retaliate when she caught sight of Calum's face looking at Harry. The older man was barely keeping the tears swimming in his eyes at bay, and his breathing was almost erratic, as he stood there with one hand clasped over his mouth.

A massive awkward silence flitted through the air; Erin horrified at herself for flying off the handle in such a way, and shocked to see the almighty Harry Pearce overcome with such guilt and emotion. The muted atmosphere seemed set to extend a lifetime until Calum cleared his throat, after securing that Harry had his emotions more in check and was straightening his mahogany tie in a more professional manner.

"I'll continue running facial recognition on it right now Harry," he said quietly, and Harry nodded gratefully, more than a little surprised that Calum had been the most pragmatic during the situation, despite his usual immature nature. "And Dimitri gave me that device Tariq had the night he died. I'll have a good crack at it and find out what's on it."

"And I'll look into Jim Coaver." Dimitri growled fiercely, striding over to his computer terminal, jabbing a finger to the monitor and loading the necessary software. "See what dirt we can dig up on him."

For an instant, all eyes fell on Erin who was still staring mutely at Harry, at a loss at what to say. Harry nodded curtly at her as if to insist that she was forgiven, before she nodded back slightly, relief apparent on her face. She then cleared her throat, just as Calum had done minutes beforehand, and strode smartly over to join Dimitri at his computer terminal. "And I'll help you."

* * *

><p>Ruth sat rigidly up in bed, on top of the thin creamy coloured blankets, with her knees hunched up tightly against her chest. Her arms had snaked around her material-clad legs in order to form a protective cocoon; acting as a much needed barricade between herself and the other people that occasionally entered the room. Although she felt much better for being able to move freely without the hindrance of a saline drip attached to her right hand, and the fact that she had been allowed to dress in her own, more comfortable clothes, Ruth still felt unclean. While she tried not to let it affect her, Ruth detested the fact that she flinched helplessly each time the food trolley clattered by on the corridor, or when voices hovered too closely in her direction outside the door. She found herself unstoppably distressed at the variety of pitiful expressions that the nurses wore each time they arrived to check up on her. Although the only thing she desperately wanted to do each time this happened, was release a loud gut-wrenching sob, followed by an equally noisy roar of frustration, she maintained her outward composure, and nodded in all the right places. Yet she still could not bring herself to smile; it was almost as if her cheekbones had forgotten how to perform this one small task, for she found it near impossible. Ruth could not remember anymore how it had been to be cheerful. Even before the events of a couple of nights ago, her life had ceased to revolve around anything other than depression, and it hurt badly.<p>

Ruth shifted slightly from her position on the bed, but winced faintly at the dull pain that washed over the lower half of her body. Without the constant flow of the mild painkillers she had been offered upon her arrival, all that was left was a residual ache, which seemed reluctant to disappear any time soon. She found that whenever she sat in this position the pain would surfacce again, but she managed to marginally ignore it, as it made her feel better in other less physical ways. The cuts and bruises that covered her body now seemed to hurt only when they came in to contact with something, although her face still felt slightly stiff in the places where it had been repeatedly punched.

She clung as tightly as possible with her fists to the material of her black trousers. Somehow trousers felt much more appropriate, and relieving than the usual long dark skirts she wore, as they provided yet another much needed barrier. Desperate not to reveal any more damage than necessary from the bruises, Ruth had chosen a plain, long-sleeved high-necked cotton shirt from the bag of her possessions Harry had finally left her with before leaving this morning to briefly visit the grid. He had promised to return in as short a time as possible, to take her back to his house; the place where she would be staying for the next few weeks, or so they had agreed. Ruth could still not quite comprehend this face. Then again, she was still having difficulty comprehending everything in general. Her fingers absently flitted across her stomach softly, the mind still numb with the shock of it all. In her trouser pocket, the sonogram image lay preciously in her possession, wrapped up in a small envelope to protect it. Numb was a good word to describe how she was feeling overall at that moment.

Doctor Hadley had entered, and though he seemed a kind enough man, Ruth still flinched every time he did. He had sat in the chair Harry had become used to occupying and reeled off the various forms of psychological recovery she could go through, including offering her a variety of pamphlets and the opportunity to see a specialist at the hospital, at least once a week. Distressed at the prospect of letting any of those dreadful hours resurface again, even though they still occurred every night in her nightmares, Ruth had firmly turned both options down. She had brushed off Hadley's concern that she would bottle everything up to the extent it would culminate in an emotional breakdown. To her, it was just another added burden to everything else, for in Hadley's words, she had been 'bottling' every form of heightened emotion up for the past three years. Another addition would make no difference.

In order to produce as less pain as possible, Ruth eased her head gently down towards her kneecaps and rested it there carefully, her forehead brushing lightly against the skin of her hands. She bit her lip to stop the flow of tears, as she smelt _them_ on her once again. She could smell the stench of stinking sweat, sex and pain; she could still smell the sick pleasure the four of them had got out of their attack. She could still smell and taste the blood. Ruth wanted more than anything than to have a shower or a bath, but she was not entirely sure what her actions would lead her to do if she did. Although she would never reveal anything to Harry, as he had been so worried and exhausted of late, she truly had been fighting the urge to jump whilst on the roof yesterday- just to see if the pain would end. Yet he had appeared, followed by the sonogram image…her baby, and all thoughts of this had been confidently erased.

There was a sudden light rap on the door, and Ruth jumped helplessly, cursing herself inwardly in the process. She knew who it was of course, for none of the hospital staff ever took the time to knock, and it had become his indication that he had arrived, but would wait until she was ready for him to enter, instead of barging straight in. She just could not help the flinch as she thought of the damning knock at the door two nights ago which had led to her ending up in hospital in the first place.

"Come in." she said so quietly it was barely audible. Yet Harry seemed to hear it, and he gently opened the door to reveal himself, dressed as usual in the suit and tie attire, yet this time he had taken the trouble to go home and change his shirt, after spending long nights with her in the hospital.

"Hi." Harry said gently, closing the door quietly behind him and wandering over to where she was sitting on the bed.

"Hi." Ruth answered quietly in return, looking down determinedly at the sheets, as Harry was now staring unashamedly at her, apparently taking in her bruises and assessing the remaining damage.

To Harry, he was overjoyed to see just how much better she looked today, especially in her own Ruth-ish clothes, and she seemed a lot more mobile with her knees hunched up to her chest. Harry thought briefly that she looked so much more vulnerable curled into that tight ball, but dismissed the thought, wanting to focus on the positives for Ruth's sake. Yet he would never ask anything as callous as 'how are you feeling?', and he sat down on the bed next to her, so that he was not standing looming over her.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked her, glancing around the immaculately tidy room, which told him all.

Ruth nodded slowly, "Have you finished everything on the grid?"

Harry smiled gently at her, "Yes, I have the all clear to go home, on Erin and Dimitri's orders actually." His expression suddenly became troubled as thoughts of Willard flooded through his mind. He debated whether or not it was right to tell Ruth about him just yet, after all she had suffered of late, but he decided that knowing her, she would want to know. Apart from anything, Harry wanted the people responsible for this travesty behind bars as soon as possible. "I have…something to tell you when we get home."

"What?" Ruth demanded immediately, in such an old-fashioned, curious Ruth style, it made Harry chuckle slightly. He stopped suddenly, fearing she might think he was laughing at her, but then he saw the slight upturn of her mouth, and knew she had noticed the feature of her old self as well. It was not a full true smile; her smile being something Harry missed dearly, but it would do for now.

"I'll tell you when we get home." Harry repeated firmly, insistently drawing an end to the matter for the moment. "I've checked you out at the nurse's desk, so we can go now if you want."

Ruth nodded in reply and uncoiled her arms from around her legs, wincing slightly as they straightened and pressure was put against some of the remaining bruises. Her legs were just as stiff as she tentatively lowered them down from her chest and straightened them against the flat of the bed. Slowly, she inched herself to the edge of the bed and stood up gingerly, waiting a few seconds to allow the weight to fully fall on her legs so that she could adjust. Harry wordlessly put a hand on her back to steady her- enough so that he was not mollycoddling her, but still supporting her. She nodded breathlessly to indicate she was ready to go, so Harry picked up the heavy brown leather bag at the side of her bed and walked slowly to the door with Ruth by his side. Halfway down the corridor, he felt Ruth slip a hand through the crook of his arm for support. He said nothing, only made his arm more accessible for her grasp.

* * *

><p>Harry inserted the small brass key into the lock and swung the door wide open, so that Ruth could enter the house ahead of him, whilst he followed behind with her bag. She climbed the doorsteps carefully and stepped through the doorframe into the wooden coated corridor. She noted that his house was a lot bigger than hers, although that was the least you could expect with him being high up in MI5. She hesitated upon the threshold and Harry said gently behind her, "Just go on through and turn left; you'll find the sitting room. If you want you can go in there and I'll make you a decent cup of tea, which I am thankful to say, is nothing like that God-awful hospital slush."<p>

Ruth nodded, and followed his directions into the sitting room. Unlike her own rough carpeted living room, the floorboards were immaculate and wooden, made from the same material as the hallway floor. The brown sofa that stood in pride of place below the window, and the beige squashy chintz armchair matched perfectly with the house's interior design. There was a small set of bookshelves on the wall at the far end of the room, which held a variety of useful books, including poetry, which Ruth was rather dismayed to see. Somehow, she had never really considered that Harry might have a passing interest in poetry. A television faced a few metres away from the brown sofa, although below it were a sum total of four DVDs, which presumably were due to the intense number of hours on the Grid and a lacking in time to watch such things. For a few minutes, she continued to stare around the room, quite lost. She heard footsteps clattering along hall floor, and could not help but tense slightly at the sound, even though it was only Harry who entered quietly behind her mere seconds later. He caught the wide-eyed listless expression on her face, and forced his mouth into a smile.

"How about over there?" He said gently, indicating the comfortable beige chintz armchair in the corner of the room. Ruth nodded in agreement, and walked stiffly over to the said armchair and perched on the edge of it. Although her eyes were wide and alert, Harry smiled purposefully and reassuringly, in an attempt to convey that she was safe. "I'll make us that tea." He said flashing her one last smile before turning back out of the room and heading towards the kitchen. The sound of china tea cups chinking, and the flick of a kettle drifted through from the nearby kitchen, whilst Ruth, in her newfound alert state, caught the sound of Harry's almost inaudible humming. Slowly, she closed her eyes, and allowed herself to be lulled and comforted by the warmth and naturalness in his voice. The soothing sounds caused her tense muscles to loosen and hang limply in a state of relief. She did not know how many minutes she closed her eyes for, but they flew open again as she heard footsteps clattering along the polished wooden floor towards her. They revealed Harry, who had now stripped off his blazer, and was carrying two mugs of steaming hot camomile tea. Ruth was about to outstretch her arms to help him, when he nodded his head towards the coffee table next to the chair, on which he placed the two mugs seconds later.

"Bit hot at the moment." Harry said needlessly, as Ruth nodded her thanks. She found herself unable to actually look up into his eyes, so she settled for staring at the steam which was drifting peacefully up into the air to form condensation on the nearby window.

Harry backed away from her to give her some much needed space, and settled himself at the edge of the squashy brown sofa, a few metres away. For a few minutes, the pair sat through a rather awkward silence; Harry deliberating what he could possibly say or do, and Ruth trying the occupy herself with thoughts other than the ones that were constantly chasing round her mind. After around five minutes, the rapid steam from the drinks seemed to slow, and Harry shifted himself from his place on the sofa again to fetch his, whilst Ruth followed him suite. She welcomed the warmth that the liquid brought as it flowed down her throat, whilst the smell seemed the soothe her slightly.

"It's lovely," she whispered after a few moments, indicating the tea. "Thank you."

Harry smiled gently, "You're welcome. Sorry not sweet tea…but I rather thought camomile would be rather more appropriate."

Ruth nodded in reply, before letting silence slip over the conversation again. Harry surveyed her from his position on the sofa, taking in her haunted eyes and gaunt face, and once again he wished he had the ability to make everything better.

"Harry," she said after a beat, with the tone that something was troubling her, so he leant forwards attentively. "You said you needed to tell me something."

Harry's eyes darkened slightly as he considered the conversation ahead; for a moment he wondered if it was worth feigning innocence. "Did I?" he asked unconvincingly.

"Harry." She said sternly in such a Ruth-ish tone Harry would have been sorely tempted to smile again, had it not been over such an important matter.

Harry let out a helpless sigh, "Okay." He relinquished, setting his cup down on the floor beside his feet, and leaning at the edge of the sofa to recount what he knew. Yet he found it took a few nervous seconds to force his mouth to open, and then a few further seconds to force his voice forwards to release actual audible speech. "Ruth, we found one of your attackers."

Harry saw all the emotions flash visibly across her face; shock, anger, frustration and fear all rolled into one. He watched Ruth's eyes glaze over as she clearly and helplessly relived everything that her four assailants had done to her that night, and Harry slowly eased himself from the sofa and over to where she was sitting in her trance-like state. Gently, he took her hand and squeezed it lightly to force her out of the past and into the present, during which Ruth's eyes visibly focused again and came to rest on Harry. He was now crouched by her chair, holding her hand tenderly, and looking up at her with concern etched across his face. As she stared at him mutely, Harry began to pull away and said in a resigned voice:

"No, this is a bad idea…you've only just got out of the hospital. You're still trying to come to terms with what's happened. Now's not the time. Forget I said anything."

However, Ruth reached forwards to keep a grasp of his hand and stared desperately at him, "Please Harry," she whispered quietly. "I'm alright. Please-"

"No you're not." Harry sighed, staring at her with such intense sadness, it made Ruth feel incredibly self-conscious, and she shifted her gaze from him at once. "Whatever you're feeling Ruth, you are most certainly not alright."

"Maybe not," Ruth whispered ruefully, keeping her cardigan wrapped tightly around herself with her free hand. "But if I can at least pretend I am, maybe I can get through this."

Harry stared at Ruth, and remembered all at once just why he loved her so much; the kindness, the gentleness, and also the bravery. When she stumbled into his office nearly nine years ago, as her bumbling, excitable, naïve self, he would never have imagined what was to come, and he most certainly never would have imagined that she would grow up this much. He could not help the expression of pride that flitted across his features as he stared at her at that moment. Slowly, he rose from his crouching position, ignoring the twinge in his back, and settled himself on the arm of the chair, most relieved that Ruth did not even flinch at this motion. She simply stared up at him, waiting patiently, so Harry sighed again and removed his hand from her and placed it around her shoulders instead. Again, Ruth did not flinch; even surprising herself at how comfortable she had now become in Harry's embrace.

"There were four of them as you said. Calum found and analysed the footage from the CCTV on your street. They arrived in a stolen transit van, which was found hours after…after it had happened, burnt out in a nearby alleyway."

He looked down concernedly at Ruth, to check the information he was giving her was not too overwhelming, and was both surprised and relived to find that her face was straight with indifference; waiting patiently for him to continue.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently, just to confirm.

"Fine." Ruth nodded, and Harry winced slightly at the ferocity in her usual automatic reply. Although he knew he should stop, against his better judgment he forced himself to continue:

"The four of them were well trained; keeping all forms of identifying them to the minimal, except one of them made the mistake of putting the balaclava on too late, so we managed to analyse part of his face."

He suddenly felt Ruth tense rapidly under his fingers as he uttered the word 'balaclava', and her eyes glazed over for just a split second; however it was enough for him to stop his words. He pulled her closer to him, so that she was leaning into his chest, reassuringly, and whispered:

"It's alright…I'll stop now. We'll leave it for another time."

Ruth's head shot up, her eyes wide and slightly watery, but fierce determination written across her face, "No." her voice trembled, but Harry could not tell if it was fear, anger or nervousness. "No…please tell me-"

"Ruth, you're in no fit state." Harry insisted gently. "You're practically petrified even when I mention them. How do you think you're going to feel if you live in fear of someone, who is all the more real now you know their name? It'll make everything ten times worse."

"I want to know Harry." Ruth argued, a single tear slipping down her left cheek, but she brushed it away furiously.

"No Ruth." Harry whispered decisively, beginning to stand up, and move away from her, but she seized his hand once again in desperation.

"Harry," she cried, brushing away yet more tears with the sleeve of her cardigan. "I need to know." At his still stubborn expression, she relinquished her grip on his hand, and used them to try and forcefully lever herself up from the armchair. "If you didn't want to tell me, why didn't you save telling me anything at all? At least if I knew who he was, then…then I'd only have to be worried about the three faceless ones that…that haunt my dreams every time I even close my eyes."

Harry stood for a few moments contemplating what she was saying, shocked at her suddenly distraught state, before reaching for her once again. "Ruth-"

However, Ruth tugged away from him, helpless anger bubbling and churning within her, yet she found it strangely welcoming. She actually wanted to rage, and shout and scream at him. Although in fairness, she did not want to rage specifically to him…but everyone. Inside the hospital, she had cried and experienced everything from fear, to inadequacy, to crying because it was the only way to stop herself from feeling so numb. Yet now she felt the first twinges of anger, she could not help the fury within.

"Why should _you_ get closure, when_ I_ went through it? It hurt Harry! It really hurt! And now I can't get it out of my mind! I want to know who…I need to know why they-"

Harry's heart splintered once again inside his chest, as he watched pure fury unleash itself across Ruth's wild features. Her fists had balled themselves up, and he could tell she was still rather weak by the way she was leaning one hand against the arm of the chair. Only during the last few words of her speech did her breathing become less erratic, and her loud shouts dissolve into silent wracking sobs. Still shocked by her unpredictability, Harry tentatively placed one hand on her shoulder to test if she was going to break way again. When he was satisfied she was not, he pulled her tightly into his embrace, bending too such an extent that she landed helplessly back in the chair, and he on the arm.

"I know…"he said, though he wanted to punch himself for those words of unhelpful comfort. "I'm sorry. I just…I just don't really know what is right to do by you at the moment Ruth."

"Please tell me." Ruth whispered again, gulping back a sob threatening to release, and brushing away the last of her tears.

Harry sighed and gave in. He pressed a short but gentle kiss to her temple before saying, "His name is Joseph Willard. He works for the CIA."

Ruth's head shot up to look at him, "Coaver." She sniffed, unable to keep the fear out of her voice.

"He does work under Coaver but…we don't know for sure if he's involved yet. We're looking into it." Harry assured her gently. "I promise we'll find out who did it. Calum's working right now to find out who the other bastards are, and Erin and Dimitri are digging up the dirt on Coaver."

Ruth frowned slowly, "I thought you were certain Jim Coaver had nothing to do with any of this."

Harry hesitated, knowing he owed a massive apology over his judgment now; something he was not very used to doing with Ruth. "I was…being pig-headed not listening to anything you said. And…certain events suddenly made it important that we check every option."

Ruth stared at him for a moment, before nodding gratefully; Harry thought he caught a flash of the beautiful light blue shade in her eyes, before they appeared grey and fearful again.

"What's going to happen to…to Willard?" she asked.

"Before I left this morning I ordered Dimitri to bring him in…quietly…so that there's no tantrums made by the Americans. That's the last thing we want with this agreement with the Russians. Gavrik's already threatening to withdraw from the agreement because of the attempt on Elena's life."

At the mention of the Gavrik's, Ruth shifted a little, but Harry kept his grip around her tight and reassuring, to let her know she was the focus of his attentions at that moment, and in Harry's view, from now on.

"Are you…are you going to see him?" Ruth asked tentatively, swallowing hard as she spoke. "Willard?"

Harry snorted, "Erin thinks it's best if I don't but…" An alarmingly menacing expression suddenly wiped across Harry's face, frightening Ruth to such an extent she had to grip his hand again to pull him back to the present.

"Harry please…please don't…don't do anything stupid," she pleaded, and held tight to his hand to emphasise her point, before she looked away with flushed cheeks. As he frowned in confusion, slowly she whispered, "I know…I know you've probably hated it but…but I am grateful for you being here…for everything you've done. And I…I don't think I could bear it…without you…if anything was to happen to you."

It was as close to her saying thank you, and confessing her love to him than she had ever come, and Harry's heart overfilled with love for her. His embrace around her tightened even further as he smiled gently at her, offering her all the love and protectiveness in the world in just one look. "I promise I won't do anything stupid. And I promise I'll stay with you for as long as you want me."

**Hope you liked that! Coming up next is Ruth trying to adapt back into her normal life and routine, Harry and the team find out who else was involved in the rape, and Tariq's murder, and perhaps even a little happy baby moment or two (still haven't decided yet on that one but I'm open to persuasion if you want it). If you want more, please review :) xx**


	18. Chapter 18

**Okay...um I'm not sure if people still like this story or if they're getting a bit bored because not many people seemed to like the last chapter. Anyway, I still wrote the next chapter. Thank you for the amazing reviews. This next one is purely HR, with Ruth's recovery, but I promise the next chapter will continue with the plot, and maybe even discover Elena's involvement. Don't know myself yet. Although I do know the ending, and I do know there is fluff fast approaching:) Please R&R!**

Harry parted his way through the thick steam from the boiling vegetables, feeling for the rounded dial on the edge of the cooker, and turning all the gas rings down. Once some of the steam had dispersed, he peered over the top of the cooker at the state of the vegetables and sniffed each one of them in turn, debating whether they were ready to serve or not. He then decisively snatched up the heavy saucepan of boiled potatoes and proceeded to the sink, to pour the remaining boiling water down the sink. Following this, he found a fork in the cutlery drawer and began fiercely skewering them, ready for serving on to the two set out plates. He then followed with the parsnips, carrots and broccoli, before opening the top oven hatch to ensure that the salmon fillets he had prepared were ready. He mused over the fact that he was now cooking for both himself and Ruth, something which he had only ever dreamed about before, after their one and only date five years previously. In any other circumstances, he would have been overjoyed that he had been given this opportunity, yet he could not help but feel anguished that it was for entirely different reasons. Ruth currently lay curled up on the sofa in the next room, after he had told her to get some sleep and rest, because she looked utterly exhausted. Yet he was prepared to wager that she was not sleeping at all; since waking up, he had rarely seen her close her eyes. It was dark irony to him that the first time he had performed such an ordinary household task, had been because she was in need of recovery from such a travesty. Harry removed the oven mitten he had been using to shovel the salmon fillets from the pan to the plate, and now turned the oven off completely. Drawing out two knives and forks to accompany the plates, he turned the kitchen door handle and carefully opened it to make his way through to the sitting room.

As he had predicted, Ruth lay curled up on the brown sofa, head resting lightly on the arm, staring wide-eyed and alert at the empty television screen. Harry paused in the doorway to watch her, wishing once again there was something he could do to make it all better, before she smelt the scent of the food wafting into the room and looked up.

"Food's ready." Harry said pointlessly, indicating the two plates in his hands. He shuffled over to where the coffee table stood and with his right leg shoved it's screeching form over to the sofa, where he promptly set the two plates down.

"Aren't we going to eat at the table?" Ruth asked, quite surprised at this apparent habit, as his house had such a clean and tidy complexion; as if he never did anything improper like eating food in front of the television.

Harry, who had been concerned for Ruth's physical state, and did not want her to waste her limited energy on moving to the dining room table, shrugged, "There you are Ruth," he said smiling gently. "I'm not so old-fashioned after all."

He felt his heart sink just that little bit further when she did not return the smile, her face remaining depressed and indifferent. Even so, not wanting Ruth to discover his own saddened state, he continued to smile kindly, and moved around the other side of the table to join her on the sofa. As he sat down, he felt the sofa sag a little under his weight, but he was thankful at least that Ruth did not seem to mind his close proximity. Indeed, after her confession hours earlier, he was quietly convinced that she was quite content and comfortable in his presence, which at least was one positive during a completely negative situation. Harry helped himself to his fork and lifted the plate from the coffee table up onto his knee, whereby he began to carve up his salmon. He had only taken one mouthful when he turned to discover Ruth had not even touched her food and was staring mutely at the plate, as if she simply could not remember the luxuries of how to eat.

"It'll go cold." He prompted her lightly, though inwardly extremely concerned that she seemed to be starving herself. It was then another thought occurred to him, that whilst he had rarely seen Ruth sleep at the hospital, he had not once seen her eat. True, whilst he had been visiting her on occasions, there had been some food set on her bedside table, but none of it had been touched. Ruth still did not respond to his gentle encouragement, and she continued to stare fixedly at the plate. Harry sighed, put down his own plate and turned to her.

"You have to eat Ruth." He said gently, watching her irresponsive face. "You're eating for two don't forget."

Ruth finally looked down from her plate and stared at the wooden floor, "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I know you went to a lot of trouble…and I'm not being ungrateful…really. I'm just…really not hungry."

"After everything that's happened, you're very weak." Harry tried, once again hoping to tempt her into eating at least a few mouthfuls, yet upon seeing her mouth set into a stubborn line, knew it would be to no effect. "That painkillers combined with the usual bouts of morning sickness will have made you exhausted. You need to rebuild that energy by eating at least something."

Still Ruth, made no attempt to touch her food, and stared once again back at the portion on her plate.

"Please Ruth-" he began, but did not get any further before she suddenly scrunched up her fingers into fists and slapped her knees and thighs repeatedly with them, in utter frustration.

"I'm not hungry Harry!" she cried angrily and uncontrollably, only stopping her painful punches when Harry physically seized her wrists and pinned them to her sides.

"Sshh." He soothed gently, though inwardly shocked by her sudden outburst, and aware that her extreme emotional unpredictability was beginning to really frighten him. After securing that her hands had successfully been stilled he moved one of his own hands carefully up to her face, lifting her chin to get her to look at him. His hazel gaze met her greyish, once bright blue eyes, as he took in just the level of depression that was actually there.

"Sweetheart, I need you to eat something to keep you going." He whispered tenderly, stroking her cheek lightly with his thumb. "You're going to starve both yourself and the baby if you don't eat. It doesn't have to be this if you don't want it," he said indicating the untouched, slowly cooling plate of salmon and vegetables. "But try something."

As he uttered that sentence, Ruth's brow had become furrowed and her eyes seemed taken aback. After a moment she whispered, "What?"

"What?" Harry asked, now extremely confused, and wondering whether she had heard him correctly.

"You just called me…"Ruth tailed off, as Harry continued to look worriedly at her. "You just…it doesn't matter." She finished quietly, shaking her head, deciding she had imagined it, whilst Harry, who had not even registered his use of the endearment, continued to frown concernedly at her.

However, under his watchful eye, Ruth slowly reached forward and grasped the cold metal of the steel fork with her right hand. She allowed the coolness to fill her clammy hand, before she proceeded to lift the plate onto her lap with her other hand. Harry had to suppress his smile of adoration as he watched her dig her fork into one of the potatoes, slice off a chunk and eat it without complaint. Mindful that she might feel he was ogling at her, Harry lifted his own meal back onto his knee, swallowed another mouthful and allowed the juice of salmon fillet to fill his grateful, aching taste buds. They sat in a contented silence whist they ate; Harry finishing his within a matter of minutes; Ruth eating hers at a far slower, yet progressive pace. Harry managed to find so many things in his sitting room to fascinate him that had not done so before, as he stared anywhere but at her, determined to award her with much-needed privacy. After around ten minutes, he heard rather than saw the clatter of the knife and fork as they hit her plate, signalling that she had finished. Harry turned to that all of the potatoes had been finished, followed by most of the carrots and broccoli, whilst the parsnips had been tackled. She had only taken a couple of miserable bites out of the salmon, yet Harry realised, for someone who had been feeling so poorly recently, it probably was not the best dish to serve her after all. He smiled at the wonderful sight of an almost clean plate, despite the fact she had not been in the mood at all, and he deterred himself from congratulating her, well aware she would consider this far too patronising. He could not help but notice there was a little more colour in her previously chalk white cheeks, and she had an overall healthier complexion.

Ruth stared at the virtually finished plate for a few seconds before glancing up at Harry, "Thank you." She said quietly, though still not quite being able to smile. "It was lovely."

Although he could not quite tell whether she was simply being polite or not, Harry decided he did not care, merely glad that she had finally eaten something. "You're very welcome." He replied smiling. Their eyes met briefly for a few seconds before he smiled gently at her and broke the gaze. "I'd better get on with the washing-up, and open some air-fresheners or my kitchen is going to smell of fish for weeks." He grinned and nodded at the two empty plates before forcing himself to his feet and carrying the two finished plates to the door. "Is there anything you want to do in particular? I've got some DVDs if you want to watch something, but it's so long since I've seen them, I couldn't for the life of me remember what they are."

Ruth considered this before shaking her head. She then seemed to struggle with herself for a few moments, as if trying to get out the right words, causing Harry to return to the sofa in worry.

"Is anything wrong?" he asked concernedly. "Sickness?"

Ruth shook her head firmly, "No…no nothing like that. I just…" she stammered, looking down ashamedly at her knees, and twisting her hands together anxiously. She forced herself to take a few deep breaths before she whispered in a tone of utter embarrassment, "I just…I would really like a bath…or a shower to…I don't know. I think I just…" she closed her eyes to avoid Harry's expression, and twisted her hands even tighter in frustration at her inability to form articulate words and sentences. "I just need to…feel clean." She finished, slowly drawing her eyes open to look desperately at Harry for any signs of amusement or frustration. There were none. The only expression he wore across his features was that of the utmost tenderness, as he nodded in understanding; although his eyes still contained a certain degree of worry at her attempting such a potentially suspect thing, following an extremely violent attack. Clearly the images flashing across the forefront of his mind were the same ones Ruth had considered earlier, but she tried to smile reassuringly at him. It only came out as a mere grimace, but Harry understood her meaning. He could tell from the earnest in her eyes that she was not planning on doing anything foolish, or at least, he thought and hoped he was reading her correctly. In the recent months, they had drifted apart to such an extent that he was not sure whether he still maintained the ability to read her in the way he used to be able to. Yet he understood her fraught desire to wash away any feel of her assailants grasp, and eventually, registering the look of deep desperation in her eyes, he smiled and nodded.

"Okay," he said gently. "But a bath it is, I think for now."

He purposely left off the tail end of the sentence, which indicated that she was still very weak, for which Ruth was very grateful. Having always been brought up to be independent and having learnt over the years to rely on herself and no other, it was a blow to her vanity and pride to admit that she needed help at the moment. Ruth realised with disgust at how vulnerable and overly-dependent she must seem right now, and indeed, whilst at the hospital; she hated to think what Harry was thinking of her. Still, she nodded thankfully at him, and with her eyes directed at the floorboards, she attempted with enormous effort to lever herself up from the sofa.

As if magically sensing her thoughts, Harry took one look at her ashamed expression and asked gently, "Would you like some help?"

Without hesitation Ruth snapped back, "No, I'm fine." Her usual automatic response launching itself into the verbal exchange caused Harry's heart to sink even further. Her constant insistence that she was 'fine' was usually the tell-tale sign that she was precisely the opposite, only for reasons which Harry was at a loss to understand, she felt it better to built up protective barriers against those with the intention of helping her.

"Please Ruth," Harry said tentatively, as he watched her fall helplessly back onto the sofa due to the stiffness of her legs. "Let me at least run the bath for you."

"I'm not an invalid." Ruth whispered quietly, her voice gaining that choked up quality once more. Although she fixed her helpless gaze on the floor, Harry could see clearly the glistening of her eyes, and he squeezed her hand lightly.

"I know you're not." He explained gently. "But you've just come out of hospital and desperately need rest, at least for tonight. Think of it as putting my mind at rest."

Her shining eyes flickered briefly up from their fixed point on the floor and met his hazel ones, as if debating whether or not to obey his gentle encouragement. Eventually, after a few seconds hesitation, she nodded gratefully.

"Okay." She agreed, but then added stubbornly. "But I don't need any extra help. I'll be fine."

Nevertheless, whilst she and Harry climbed the wooden staircase together, she did not object to Harry's hand which came to rest lightly on her back, in reassurance that he would not let her fall. Indeed, as she felt her stiff legs begin to buckle from beneath her, Harry grasped her shoulders tightly so that her weight leant against him, and he managed to half carry her up the remaining steps. Once they had successfully reached the top, Harry eased Ruth to his other side, still with his arm reassuringly wrapped tight around her shoulders, so that she could lean the other half of her body against the bannister as they travelled towards the bathroom. They entered the brightly tiled room, and Harry gently escorted Ruth over to the toilet, where he promptly closed the lid and helped her to sit down. The relief and exhaustion in her body was evident, regardless of the fact that her eyes were still defiantly suggesting she was quite capable of the task at hand. Yet Harry continued to smile sweetly, walked over to the bathtub and spun the tap on. As the water gushed and hammered noisily against the inside surface of the tub, Harry reached into a cupboard just below the sink and pulled out a plastic bottle almost full with creamy orange bubble bath. Whilst he released the cap and squeezed a generous amount of liquid into the tub, Ruth smelt the distinct welcoming scent of peaches, which soothed her currently distraught mind.

Eventually, Harry discovered that the bath was almost half full, and though he wanted to trust Ruth to take care, he decided it might be better to leave the water at that level just in case. Still cautious, Harry bit his lip and sighed heavily before turning round and facing her.

"It's ready." He said simply, nodding towards the bath. As she nodded mutely, her eyes appeared to have become gloomy and glazed over once again, and Harry considered simply draining the water from the bath and telling her this was not a good idea at all.

However, after a moment's hesitation, she nodded again and whispered, "Thanks."

Unable to help himself, and still reluctant to leave her Harry asked, "Are you sure you don't need anything. Help? Anything at all?"

He half expected her to shout at him again; that he was interfering and she could cope perfectly well on her own. Yet the scent of the bubble bath before her seemed to soothe her slightly, and she shook her head whilst replying quietly, "No, I'll be alright. Thanks Harry."

He could not help but feel his heart warm slightly at the genuine gratitude and love in Ruth's tone of voice as she uttered those last two words.

"If you do need anything," Harry continued, backing out of the bathroom. "Just give us a shout. I'll be in the spare bedroom getting things ready for you anyway."

Ruth nodded gratefully once again, however she did not make a move. Harry took it as his cue to leave, and flashed her a forced smile once more, before reaching for the handle and closing it carefully behind him. He hovered, waiting to hear some sort of movement or reaction, instead of her just remaining sitting down with that horrific haunted glaze in her eyes. After about two minutes or so, he heard the squeaking of the spotless tiled floor as she padded over to the door, and slid the bolt sharply across it. Harry understood. She needed her privacy.

* * *

><p>Ruth turned away from the bathroom door, relief swelling through her at the rate of knots as she realised it was the first time she had actually been left alone since Harry had found her in that awful state days ago. She knew both the people at the hospital, and Harry himself meant well, but she had craved space to simply sit and analyse everything properly; perhaps even properly relieve her tear ducts, which had been switching on and off uncontrollably, and forcing her to feel even more disgusting and ashamed in front of Harry. Yet as she allowed the peaceful silence to overcome her, she could not free any of the tears that had threatened to fall so easily downstairs, hours ago. The exhaustion was overwhelming, and she wanted nothing more than to just fall into a dreamless slumber for hours on end, yet every time she closed her eyes, she saw <em>them<em>, and only them. They haunted her dreams, her memories and her everyday life. She became ashamed at her fear whenever a stranger even approached her direction.

Agonisingly slowly, so that she would not lose balance, crash to the floor and alert Harry, Ruth turned towards the long mirror on the wall by the door. She only briefly caught a glimpse of herself as she faced it before her head shot down in horror. She had not realised the true extent of the damage; her left eye was swollen, as were both of her cheeks, followed by her lip which was cut and outlined with mottled bruising. Cuts and bruises were also noticeably present down her arms, and she already knew her legs were in that same sorry state. Pain flooded through her as she considered how Harry must be feeling upon looking at her; she looked such a mess that anyone would have said anything to comfort her. Ruth prayed in that moment that he had meant every word and had not just reeled off any random words in order to placate her.

Ruth knew the bath would be gradually getting colder and colder, yet after spotting just those minor injuries in the mirror, she could not bear to stare at any more. If she removed her clothes to enter the bath, she would have to see herself; she was not sure she could do that. It was not even as if she could simply turn away from the mirror, because the curiousness in her would always prevail, and she would end up assessing the damage anyway. Gritting her teeth so that they screeched against each other inside her mouth, Ruth closed her eyes and began to unbutton her cardigan very slowly. She peeled that off, and it was followed after a length of time by her shirt. She then tackled her skirt, spending a great deal of time trying to get her panicky, trembling fingers to unzip it before she got so upset that she tugged it down in frustration, and threw it away from her. All this was followed by the underwear; this barrier was eradicated after an even lengthier amount of time. Arms curled humiliated around herself, Ruth forced her eyes to glance up into the long mirror, however she was unable to withstand it for more than a second before she dropped them again in anguish. She finally allowed a single tear to escape its barricades before she bit her lip and drew her head up once again. She stared back at herself as more tears fell, this time for a maximum of three seconds before dropping her head once again. This time, Ruth turned away purposefully, quite satisfied that she had managed such a task, but wishing she had not. She instead moved her stiff muscles towards the bathtub and, praying the hot water was not going to cause any further pain, she climbed in. She glanced desperately around for a scrubbing brush, found one in the dish next to the bath, and began frantically scrubbing so hard at her skin, it numbed all feeling altogether.

* * *

><p>Harry worked away at his teeth with his usual mahogany toothbrush, his forehead creased in worry and concentration. He had to admit, he had been relieved when Ruth had finally emerged from the bathroom after an hour and a half, and although she looked healthier, Harry could not help but think that she seemed even more distressed and distant than before. Her skin was noticeably red with the obvious signs that she had scrubbed it vigorously, without relent for a long period of time, in the hope of removing the feel of her attackers from her body. He wondered if it had not worked, because that at least would have explained her even more subdued behaviour. He had listened intently whilst she had been inside the bathroom, and after a period of time, he had heard painful, wracking sobs, similar to those he had encountered whilst visiting her at the hospital. For an instant, Harry had been all set to burst in and find out if anything was wrong, but was stopped by the fact that the door was locked, and by the realisation that it had been locked for a good reason. Clearly, she had been distressed by his constant mollycoddling earlier that evening, and felt the need for some privacy. Thus, although reluctant to do so, he had let her be, however it had not stopped the agony that had burst through him each time he heard another cry of anguish.<p>

When she had finally emerged from the bathroom, he had pretended not to notice her pink tinged skin, and her red-rimmed eyes, with the assumption that she was craving more privacy and he had smiled at her as best he could before showing her to her room, and leaving her to her own devices. Since then, he had heard very little noise or movement from the next room, and he prayed she had finally managed to achieve some form of sleep, or peaceful rest. Harry spat out the last mouthful of toothpaste before rinsing his mouth, and replacing his toothbrush on the wrack near the sink.

Wondering bleakly if he would actually manage to salvage any sleep out of tonight himself, Harry turned around and proceeded through the bathroom door, crossed the landing, and entered his own room. He pondered briefly whether or not he should check in on Ruth to see if she was alright, before deciding that if she was asleep he did not want to disturb her with unnecessary noise, and so put the thought out of his mind. He groaned inwardly at the thought of attending work tomorrow when Ruth was in such a state. Although he knew she needed some space following all that she had been through, he was not prepared to leave her on her own just yet; especially since they had not yet apprehended all of the men responsible for the rape, and indeed, those behind it. He decided that he would call Erin in the morning to inform her he would not be on the grid tomorrow at all. He hoped both she, Dimitri and Calum would understand, however he doubted Towers would be very impressed. Towers would have to lump it, Harry thought grimly, climbing under the covers of his bed; he had more important matters to sort out, or in particular, a more important person to be with. Harry did not bother to set an alarm clock, remembering from that one night together that Ruth was an especially light sleeper, and would be easily roused from her much needed rest with such a racket going on. Harry moved his left arm to click off his bedside lamp, before being left with his thought in the remaining darkness. Despite his fears that he would not sleep, he found tiredness overcoming him far quicker than anticipated, and within ten minutes, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

><p>Harry awoke, and leapt forwards in bed in utter panic and confusion. For an instant, he tried to take in where he was, before realising it was his own room. He then tried to dissect what precisely the reason was for his awakening. His thoughts were short-lived as a sudden blood-curdling scream erupted from somewhere nearby, and after a few seconds, Harry remembered everything that had happened, and realised that it was coming from the room in which Ruth was sleeping. Harry launched himself out of bed within an instant, heart hammering, but expression determined as he crouched down on the floorboards, removed the nearby deep red rug, and lifted up an unsuspectingly loose floorboard. Harry delved his hand quickly into the small space and dragged out a small, but loaded handgun, all the while listening agonisingly to Ruth's screams of distress. He tore out of his room, despite the fact that it was still dark, and charged up the landing towards Ruth's room. He saw with some surprise that her door was still firmly shut, indicating that an intruder in a hurry would not stop to do this. Even so, he kept the gun firmly locked into position in his right hand, and turned the handle of the door with the other.<p>

He flung the door open with a loud smash, and held the gun in front of him awaiting any armed assailants that approached him or harmed Ruth in any way. Yet as his eyes darted around her room, he detected no sign of an intrusion whatsoever. The lights, although were not entirely at their darkest were dimmed to such an extent Harry's trained eyes could see no sign of any disturbance whatsoever. He looked in the direction of the bed, from where Ruth's distressed screams were erupting from, and he saw only her form. She lay flailing around violently amongst the tangled duvet, however her body was frighteningly rigid, with her hands balled into fists which thumped the mattress relentlessly with each cry. It only occurred to him in that moment that Ruth was experiencing an extremely horrific nightmare, as her eyes were screwed tight shut, even though tear tracks were still very much noticeable. Her agonising screams continued on, drifting in and out of coherence. Harry listened carefully for a second, whilst lowering his gun and stowing it on the dresser near the door.

"NO…PLEASE! PLEASE DON'T!" Ruth bawled uncontrollably, thrashing around even more violently than before. She panted for a few moments in her unconscious state before screaming out, "AAAHHHH!"

Harry did not have to think for a second what she was dreaming about, as the excruciating shriek of agony erupted from Ruth's mouth. Having known Ruth as the quiet, reserved and brave woman she was, for nine years, Harry did not think his heart would ever repair from hearing such a sound burst forth from her mouth. In the midst of her flailing Harry noticed that her stomach was receiving several bumps and blows, which was the last straw. Unable to see her in such a state any longer, Harry dashed forwards and collapsed onto the edge of the mattress.

"Ruth!" he called loudly, shaking her desperately as she yelled out again. "Ruth, wake up."

Despite his best attempts, Ruth still did not wake up. He noted that she had ended up on her stomach, and in a bid to protect both her and the baby, he rolled her over and lifted her into his arms, whilst holding her against himself. Her eyelids flickered slightly at this movement, and Harry took the opportunity to shake her vigorously once again.

"Come on Ruth," he called. "Wake up…it's just a nightmare. It's over. I won't let them hurt you again. No one's ever going to hurt you again. It's alright. Wake up!"

Ruth's eyes finally tore open, and the continuous screams finally stopped. However barely a couple of seconds passed before uncontrollable tears began to roll down her cheeks, and she began to sob helplessly. Harry muttered a brief 'Oh Ruth' before pulling her even closer to his chest, and rocking her tenderly like a he would a small child. He whispered the same words as before to her over and over again, like a fervent mantra, in order to comfort her. Harry did not know how long he sat cradling her, whispering words of comfort and love, but by the time she had quietened he noticed that behind the drawn red shades in the bedroom, the tiniest shimmers of light were beginning to dawn outside. Finally, Ruth's sobs dispelled, replaced by small hiccups and sniffs, until she looked round the room softly and took in the position she was in with Harry. He was holding her more gently than she had ever been held in her life; delicately like a fragile china doll, and with his hand cupping her face which was pressed miserably against his chest.

Harry felt her try to tug away from him and saw the embarrassment in her red cheeks. He obeyed the pressure and released her slightly so that she could sit up and sit against the pillows and headboard. She wiped her red eyes and nose with the sleeve of her pyjamas, but did not move entirely out of his grasp, finding his gentle touch soothing.

"I'm sorry for being so weak." She whispered despondently, looking down at the sheets. "And for being this much of a burden to you right now-"

"Ruth you're _not_ weak." Harry said firmly. "And you most certainly are_ not_ a burden." He tightened his grip around her shoulders to emphasise this point. "You've been through utter hell, and no one could even think of blaming you for being like this. But it'll get better. I promise you it'll get better."

"It won't ever go away." Ruth said fiercely. It was a statement and not a question.

"No." Harry admitted, aware of the experience Jo had had with Boscard and the Redbacks, and all the other rape cases he had witnessed over his long years in the army and intelligence services. He did not know if it was insensitive to think that Ruth's case seemed much worse; he supposed it was, but it made an appalling situation all the more worse if it was happening to someone you loved desperately. "But in time, you'll learn to move on from it."

Ruth still stared at the sheets and shook her head in disbelief. "And I'll help you." Harry promised. "And you've got things to look forward to in life Ruth. You've got a little baby on the way…you've got a family."

"I can't get them out of my head." Ruth whispered with wide frightened eyes. "I'm trying to stop it…I'm trying…but all I can think about is that night."

"Sweetheart, the hospital gave you some pamphlets on people who might be able to help you with this," Harry said gently, this time noticing his renewed use of the endearment. He sensed Ruth had too because as he uttered the sentence she looked up briefly before returning her gaze to the sheet.

"I don't want to talk about it." She said sniffing.

"It'll help." Harry said firmly. "I'm sure it will help." Ruth still looked reluctant so he continued. "Or we have someone at Thames House who can help you."

"Come on Harry," she scoffed suddenly. "You know as well as I do that if I walk in to Thames House and say that I'm struggling to deal with something mentally, I'll be fired within the week. That's what happens…the slightest mistake means 'career over'. I'm already probably going to be sacked for…this." She finished lamely, resting her hand on her stomach lightly.

"Okay." Harry agreed. He was about to continue to conversation when he noticed that Ruth's eyelashes were drooping exhaustedly, but she was straining to keep them open to stave off the nightmares that came with sleep. "Get some sleep Ruth," he whispered gently. "You're so tired you can barely keep your eyes open.

"I can't." Ruth whispered back fearfully. "Please…I can't."

"You'll be alright." Harry said reassuringly, kissing the top of her head, lowering her back into a laying position on the bed, and untangling the sheets to cover her warmly. "I promise if it happens again I'll come and wake you again. I'm only just down the corridor."

"I can't Harry," she said, although her eyes were drooping heavily in succumbing to sleep. "I can't ask you to go without sleep because of me."

"You don't have to ask." Harry said firmly, walking over to the door and picking his gun back up from the dresser. "I'm telling you I will. I know you have an inability to follow straight orders Ruth, but this time you will."

And then there at that moment Harry spotted it; in her eyes finally closing shut, the tiniest trace of a smile ghosted over her lips, lighting up her face for just the smallest second. Harry thought it was the most beautiful sight in the world.

**Hoped you liked that. If you did and would like some more please review xxx**


	19. Chapter 19

**Wow- thank you so much for all the reviews; they were all amazing, and I love you all! I've put quite a bit of plot in this chapter, and it's also my longest chapter yet but I hope you don't get too bored. There's a touch of the angry Harry we sometimes see in the real series in this ;) Please read and review...**

On a perfectly contented suburban estate, a little girl, who could not have been more than six years old, sat hunched at the breakfast table, beside an incredibly expensive kitchen unit. She had apparently obtained the same dark hair, tanned skin and freckles as her mother, who at that moment dashed over to her in a flurry, with a bowl of cornflakes in hand. Once the bowl was placed directly in front of her, the little girl proceeded to remove her loose hair from her face, and tuck it messily behind her ear, before scooping up her spoon and taking a large mouthful. The rather harassed-looking mother hurried past her and out of the kitchen door, yelling up the large, wooden varnished staircase:

"Come on! You'll be late!"

With that, she sighed and hurried back into the kitchen, filling another bowl with cornflakes and semi-skimmed milk. A few minutes later, the sound of heavy footsteps moving over the squeaky wooden stairs could be heard from the kitchen, followed by the squeal of the door as it opened to reveal a tall, sandy-haired middle-aged man. The scent of heavy aftershave and shaving foam clung to him as he too seated himself at the kitchen table, next to his daughter, who promptly left her own seat to sit purposefully on his lap. She moved her finger up to his now smooth, cleanly shaven chin to stroke the skin affectionately. The father did not object in the slightest, apparently accustomed to this sort of routine, and instead seated her more firmly on his lap and kissed the top of her head.

"Daddy," the little girl began curiously after a few moments. Her missing front teeth created the most adorable lisp which still made him smile, even after hearing it for such a long time. "How long do we have to stay in England? When can we go back to America?"

The American man smiled fondly as he remembered his beautiful sunny hometown back in the states, rather than the dreary rainy British days he constantly had to face. He looked down at the serious expression on his daughter's little face and smiled gently, "Not long hopefully- as long as we're needed by Daddy's boss."

"Why do you have to do what your boss says?" she asked curiously, moving her fidgeting hand down to fiddle with his perfectly straightened tie.

The man smiled gratefully at his wife as she deposited a bowl of cornflakes in front of him and tapped her crystal watch to indicate he had better get a move on. However, he smiled patiently down at his little girl and replied, "Because otherwise my boss won't like me very much and he'll say I can't work for him anymore."

"Sometimes when Amanda and Lorrie told me to do things back home, and I said I didn't wanna do them, we didn't like each other for a bit but then we were friends again after a while." The little girl answered seriously, a gloomy expression flashing across her face as she considered her best friends back in America, whilst she was stuck in boring rainy England for the time being. Her father sighed sympathetically.

"I know." He said quietly. "But they're your friends aren't they? It would be different if I said that to my boss. It would be like," he said, pausing to consider how to describe the sentence. "It would be like you not doing something your teacher tells you to do."

The little girl's expression brightened slightly, and she pulled out her tongue, "I do sometimes. I don't care what the teacher says."

The man chuckled affectionately and he planted one last kiss on his child's forehead before returning her to her seat. "Then you're braver than I am."

"Mommy," the girl said proudly, depositing her spoon back into the empty bowl in front of her. "Daddy says that I am brave."

"Yeah well Daddy says a lot of things," the mother said pointedly, snatching both hers and the father's unfinished bowl up to place in the washing up bowl. "Like saying we could go home two months ago."

The father sighed heavily before getting to his feet, snatching up his briefcase from the floor and heading towards the front door, "I've told you Lara, I'm working on it."

"You've been saying that for two months as well!" She yelled, as the man walked out of the varnished front door, allowing it to slam purposely behind him. The little girl stared wide-eyed between them for a few moments before wandering through from the kitchen to the lounge. From outside, as the middle-aged man placed his keys in the ignition, he spotted the tiny girl moving the net curtains away from the window and waving lovingly at him. He smiled and waved back in adoration before pulling out of the drive and travelling slowly down the road, thinking only of how much he loved his daughter; how he would do anything for her.

He had only just reached the main road, when he jolted to a halt behind an everlasting traffic jam. He groaned loudly and levered himself up in his seat to assess just how long the queue was, and indeed, how long it was going to take him to get to work. Another frustrated groan followed shortly as he glimpsed the queue of at least thirty cars ahead of him, and road works which stretched before and around the corner of the street. He consulted his leather-strapped watch and tutted loudly as he realised he only had fifteen minutes to get to work on time. The sight of a man pacing towards him, dressed in a fluorescent yellow traffic jacket, told him to roll down the passenger window. A few moments later, his suspicions were proved correct when the man, who up-close seemed to him to be rather too handsome to be in a low-key job like a traffic flagger, smiled gratefully at him and leaned inside the window.

"What's the problem up ahead?" the middle-aged man demanded of the younger, scruffier one. He tried to ignore his irritation at the other man's gripping of the inside of the window, smudging the interior of his new car.

"Sorry," the younger man said, also rather too well-spoken for his appearance, which surprised the older man considerably. "The traffic up ahead is really bad. Where are you headed?"

"None of your business." The older man snapped, automatically going on alert.

He suddenly became aware of two people, an man at least twenty years older than himself, and a young woman, climbing out of the car just behind him and heading towards him, on-foot. Realising all too late that he had just become the victim of a well thought out honey-trap, he glared angrily at the now smiling man at the passenger window.

"What the hell is going on?"

Before he could continue any more of his fuming protests, he jumped as he heard both of his back doors open, only to be occupied by the two people from the car behind; both of whom looked so frighteningly serious, it did not bode well for him at all. The older man, who was balding slightly, looked almost angry as he stared loathingly at him, whilst the woman also appeared to be incredibly annoyed. He stared backed at the British young man across from him: "You can't do this. Who the hell do you think you are? Hijacking my car is against the law."

"We're not hijacking your car Mr Willard," the older man said coldly, his stare continuing to emit absolute abhorrence. "In case you haven't noticed, you're still inside the car. My colleagues and I are just…taking you for a little ride."

Willard stared in horror at all three of the British people before them, realising who exactly they must be, before he made a grab for the door handle next to him, "Yeah, well we'll see about that."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The young man said smiling unpleasantly. And quicker than Willard anticipated, he expertly flung open the passenger door, and seated himself deftly inside, propelling his right hand onto the other man's left arm to prevent him from leaving the car. At Willard's look of horror, the young man smiled: "Don't worry Mr Willard," he said in a tone that quite plainly said that he had great need to worry. "We just want to ask you a few questions…without you under the protection of your little CIA friends."

"Oh believe me they'll realise that I'm gone! You'll be in big trouble for this." Willard protested angrily, shoving his arm out of the other man's grip.

"I don't think so," the older man suddenly spoke up from behind him, in that same cold, scarily calm tone. "Don't forget-traffic's bad this morning. And what is more…your boss has had a telephone call saying that you're ill this morning and can't come in. If you don't want to be unable to go into work for a very long time, or even forever, I suggest you come with us. Quietly."

Willard clamped his mouth shut, but his eyes widened in horror, as the young man on his left indicated the keys in the ignition pointedly, to tell him to pull out of the queue and in the opposite direction.

"Where are we going?" he asked through gritted teeth, trying not to show how scared he actually was, despite his clammy skin and heavily beating heart.

"Thames House." The young man answered brightly from next to him. "Know it?"

Willard swallowed deeply.

* * *

><p>Four hours earlier<p>

Harry awoke from his semi-unconscious state to the distinct sound of rustling and creaking floorboards. He had forced himself into a purposely uncomfortable position on his bed, in order to keep awake should Ruth need him again at some point during the night. Yet now he could tell this had not been a particularly great idea, for as he shifted slightly, a sharp twinge erupted up his spine, causing him to groan in pain. However, as he continued to listen to the creaking floorboards, it dawned on him that the noise was coming from the landing. It took a further few seconds for Harry to wriggle out of his sleep-fuddled mind and come to his senses that it must be Ruth, and from the sound of her hurried paces, she was obviously in a rush to reach her destination. He automatically flung the duvet back and climbed out of bed, wincing and groaning only briefly again as his back stretched out properly.

Upon hearing the bathroom door slam heavily, Harry quickly moved towards his own door and turned the handle quickly. He did not have to travel any great distance from his room to realise just exactly what Ruth had been in such a hurry with. He had taken no more than three steps from his bedroom doorway when the sound of Ruth retching and vomiting severely down the toilet reached his trained ears. Although her sudden bout of sickness did not sound quite as crippling as the ones she had experienced whilst on painkillers in the hospital, Harry's heart still went out to her when he heard her feeling so wretched. Hesitantly, because he wandered whether she would still desire her privacy, he rapped lightly on the door.

"Ruth?" he asked softly, pressing his ear against the cold wooden panels to catch whatever answer she gave. "Are you alright?"

The sound of more, heavy vomiting drifted through the gaps in the doorframe, followed by a series of short, almost inaudible whimpers. He was about to open his mouth to speak again when her fragile little voice called wanly, "Yes Harry, I'm having the time of my life right now."

She had barely reached the end of the word 'now' before more retching followed. Harry sighed miserably as he heard yet more exhausted whimpers, and he knocked on the door briefly again, "Is it alright if I come in?"

After almost a whole minute of no reply in between on and off vomiting, Harry conceded that she did not really have any objection to the suggestion, so he carefully turned the handle carefully and drew himself threw a minimal gap in the doorway. At once the dank, disgusting stench of sick and sweat filled his nostrils, and he could not help but wrinkle his nose slightly at the sudden change. He allowed himself a few seconds to allow his nose to adjust to the smell, before he glanced around the room. Ruth was kneeling, still in her pyjamas, with one hand clamped firmly to the toilet seat, and one propping up her frighteningly weak head. Harry was prepared to wager that had she not been holding her head, it would have flopped unceremoniously back down on to the toilet seat. Her hair was dotted with tiny spots of vomit, and her forehead was covered in beads of sweat. Ruth barely had time to register his appearance before she had to revolve herself back around and retch into the toilet again. Harry slowly approached her tiny form, and knelt down next to her, despite the angry protests from his already aching back and knees. He reached his right hand behind her back and proceeded to rub it gently in soothing circles, whilst his left hand stretched up to her burning forehead to cool it slightly. He noticed that Ruth tried to turn in his direction, but was prevented from doing so by the sudden cough that erupted from her chest and throat, indicating that more sick was to come. Harry moved his hand away from her forehead over the top of her head to keep the stray bits of hair away from her face in preparation. To Ruth's surprise, he did not recoil when she threw up yet again; in fact she was soothed by his whispered words of comfort, which she had seemingly become dependant on during these last few days.

Once the vomiting seemed to have died down slightly, she whispered, "I hate this."

Harry could not help but smile slightly as he remembered Jane uttering those exact same words whilst she was pregnant with Catherine, with the exception that she had stoutly refused to accept any help from him, and had spoken those words with far more aggression than Ruth had just done.

"I know," he said quietly, continuing to rub soothing circles on her back. "But it'll get better in a few weeks. Or at least it usually does once you're out of your first trimester."

As Ruth suddenly turned to face him with a quizzical look, Harry elaborated, "Jane, my ex-wife went through the same thing when she had our two children."

For some reason, although Harry had to admit he was not particularly surprised, Ruth suddenly avoided his gaze and turned back to face the toilet. Harry did not like to ask what exactly the problem was, for it could have been a number of things, all of which he was a ashamed of- whether or not it was the fact that he had now got a number of women pregnant, or that he had an ex-wife, or that he had a ruptured relationship with his children. He was just glad that Ruth still did not tense up and try to shift away from him, instead allowing his small gestures to comfort her.

"How is Catherine?" Ruth suddenly asked, in such a quiet voice Harry almost missed it. He actually thought he had misheard her, for it was a strange conversation to be having in their current predicament. It took a few seconds for him to remember just how Ruth knew of his daughter, before the memories of that horrible case almost seven years ago took hold. Although she was not looking at him, Harry could still tell Ruth was listening intently, and he thought her utterly amazing for asking such a difficult question.

"She's…okay." He sighed, realising he would have to admit he had not really heard from her in a while. "Last time I heard from her she was still doing her documentaries and such, this time in Egypt. But…I don't know…maybe she forgets there is a small invention called a telephone…as does her father I suppose." He admitted sadly, looking down at the tiled floor.

"Maybe…maybe she has a new mobile number she's just not got round to telling you yet…what with her moving around a lot." Ruth finished lowering her eyes, realising how lame it sounded, yet Harry could not express his gratitude enough at her suggestion, however unlikely it was.

"Maybe." He said smiling gratefully at her.

The pair of them spent the next few minutes in silence. After apparently deciding she had vomited up everything she still had left in her stomach, Ruth began to pull away from Harry's touch in a bid to stand up. Harry released her gently and also rose from the ground, yet again ignoring the complaints from his knees and back. He watched Ruth stand there disorientated for a second before she pulled back the sleeve of her pyjama top and consulted her watch, which was still strapped to a wrist.

"We'd better get going." She said quietly, glancing at the hands which now pointed at half past seven. Rather unsteadily, she began to head towards the bathroom door, but Harry, now frowning, caught hold of her arm to prevent her from moving. His sudden movement caused her to automatically flinch away from his grasp, and Harry immediately relinquished his group, using his gaze to keep her rooted to the spot instead.

"Sorry." He said gently, before continuing. "What do you mean, we'd better get going."

"Work." Ruth said shortly, obviously determinedly avoiding his gaze, by staring at the tiled floor below her feet. "In case you hadn't noticed Harry, we've got a job to do. Terrorists don't just stop because we don't go into work, and besides…I promised myself I would find out who…who did that to Tariq."

Harry groaned inwardly at the prospect of Ruth even thinking of going back to work at such a time, and he sighed in frustration, "Ruth, come on…you got out of hospital yesterday. You were hurt…badly. You still flinch whenever anyone even goes near you."

"Exactly," she replied quietly. "I've been away for days…who knows how much work will be waiting for me, and someone's got to do it Harry. It can't just be put on standstill because of what happened."

"Yes it can." Harry answered firmly. "I'll get someone else to do it if necessary, but there is absolutely no way I am going to let you go into work when you're like this-"

"Like what?" Ruth demanded, her voice rising slowly in pitch, whilst her eyes quickly narrowed in anger. "I'm fine Harry. I just need to work to get through this. If I can do that then maybe in time I'll be alr-"

"No." Harry replied, still standing his ground, despite the intense gaze Ruth was now sharing with him. "You're in no fit state. As your boss and as your…"

Harry suddenly stopped as it dawned on him he actually had no idea how to finish that sentence. Now that he thought about it, what exactly was he to her? Was he her friend? Her lover? Simply the father of her child? He had no answer to that question, and apparently Ruth had noticed this too because she challenged him:

"What Harry?" she demanded. "As my what?"

Harry sighed, sensing yet another argument on the boil, and he took her hand in a bid to calm her down enough for her to listen to his explanation. Surprisingly, she did not pull away; instead she stood there with her greyish eyes staring expectantly at him.

"As…"he amended, thinking very carefully about his answer. "As someone who loves and cares about you very much, I need you to recover before you go back to work. What you've been through is unimaginable to me, and probably most people at work…so you need rest, and time to recover. Your nightmare last night proved to me just how much you are _not_ fine- not matter how many times you try to insist you are." Ruth opened her mouth to retaliate but Harry hushed her with a slight squeeze of the hand. "I've been doing this job for donkey's years Ruth, and I've seen many things that have horrified me, that have shaken me to the core, but seeing you lying there bleeding the other night was the worst nightmare that has ever unfolded for me. That, followed by your revelation that you're pregnant with a child that you've been trying to deal with _alone_ for the past three months, made me promise to myself that I would never let anything happen to you again. So no, I am not going to let you go back to a job as stressful as ours…at least for the moment."

It had been a long speech, and Harry was slightly breathless as he stared at the woman before him; the woman who had since lowered her head to stare silently at the floor. Her expression was so contained, he could not tell if he had upset her, or angered her, or something else entirely.

"Ruth?" he whispered fearfully, squeezing her limp hand once again.

After a few moments, Ruth slowly lifted her head and eyes to meet his gaze, and he saw genuine love there for just a few seconds before she nodded. "Okay," she whispered, causing Harry allow a loud sigh of relief to slip out. "But you have to go." She continued unexpectedly, causing Harry to automatically frown once again.

"No Ruth," he said, shaking his head firmly. "I promised you I would look after you and that baby, and that is exactly what I'm going to do."

"Harry," Ruth whispered quietly, causing Harry's loud protests to trail off into nothingness. "You've sacrificed so much for me over the past few days. You've barely slept, or had time to eat…you've hardly been into work, whilst you're still on trial, and that isn't exactly going to help the verdict go in your favour."

"I don't care." Harry growled fiercely, tightening his grip on her hand.

"I do." Ruth argued simply, lowering her eyes at her admittance, which Harry thought was utterly adorable, not the mention the amount of pride he was containing for her bravery at that moment. "That job has been your everything for years Harry; it's your life, and especially since you have a chance to prove yourself to the inquiry panel, and possibly stop your position from being just temporary…you can't ruin it with…me."

Harry wanted to cry upon hearing her berate herself yet again, and he reached his other hand into hers to emphasise this point, "I honestly do not care." He said simply. "Yes, my job has been everything to me for years, but then I found something…someone that's…worth more to me…even if sometimes I haven't exactly shown it. And you could never ruin anything Ruth."

"Harry," she said quietly, now raising her head to look at him solemnly. "You tell me honestly…tell me honestly that no consequences are going to come of people finding out about what we did…about the baby."

She looked at him genuinely for a few moments, before Harry had to concede her point, despite the fact that he so desperately wanted to contradict her. He knew that both their jobs would possibly be on the line when people found out about Ruth's pregnancy, especially as he had insisted his cares for her were simply on a boss-employee level at the inquiry. He recalled the moment that wonderful night, when Towers had called him to inform him that the whole team would be hung out to dry, particularly Ruth, if he was to fraternise with them in anything less than a professional level. Harry hung his head ashamedly, "I can't." he admitted quietly.

"Go and do your job," Ruth said, and this time it was her turn to squeeze his hand. "I'll be okay. I'll…try and get some sleep or…or something."

Harry was no fool, and he could tell Ruth was purposely putting on a brave face, for although her mouth was saying the words, he could still see the haunted expression in her eyes. The expression that told him she would not get a wink of sleep whilst he was gone. Yet he so desperately wanted to find out who had done this awful tragedy to her, and he had to admit, the only way to do that was to go back to the grid and work alongside his colleagues.

After several minutes of hesitation, and his mind deliberating the positives and negatives of this act, Harry clicked his tongue, and sighed. "Okay." He said accepting defeat. "But if anything is wrong, you call me straight away. I'll keep my phone on at all times, and if you need anything I'll be straight back home."

Ruth nodded in all the right places, and tried her best to smile, although she did not quite manage it. He could tell that inwardly, Ruth was scared to death at being left alone in a strange house, with absolutely no protection and the prospect of the same attack occurring again. Harry once again considered whether this was the correctly thing to be doing. "Are you sure about this?" he asked her gently.

Ruth nodded determinedly, "Yeah, don't worry. I'll be fine."

Harry sighed, "I won't be long, I promise. I'll only be a few hours…five at the most, and then I'll come back and we'll have a meal or something, yes?"

Ruth nodded mutely, and Harry squeezed her shoulders gently, "Then I'll get ready." He said gently.

It took him a matter of minutes to get ready; he did not bother to shave, for he decided the quicker he got into work, the faster the time would go and he could get back home. Before he left the house, he carefully prepared some form of breakfast for Ruth to attempt, even though he knew at heart that having just vomited up the contents of her stomach, she would not really be in any mood to eat anything. By the time he headed into the hall to say goodbye to her, some buttered toast and soup were lying in wait on the kitchen table. He approached her as she was standing rigidly, and clearly terrified in the hallway and Harry once again debated staying with her for just a few more days. Yet as she heard his footsteps, she visibly tried to loosen up, in pretence of her worry; also trying to force a non-existent smile. Harry thought it better not the kiss her on the lips, although he so very much wanted to, and he bent down to press a light, gentle kiss on her forehead.

"Remember…call if you need anything. Anything at all." He said sternly, and he watched her nod.

"Really," she insisted. "I'll be fine."

"I'll lock the door." He said firmly. "Only I've got a key, so no one will be able to get to you," At her frightened eyes he continued. "But if you need to get out, there is a spare key in the tea jar in the kitchen cupboard. It was a mark of how incredibly depressed Ruth actually was that she did not question this bizarre place to keep a spare key. Instead she nodded her head mutely, whilst her eyes continued to look downcast. Harry sighed, watching her heartbreakingly; he squeezed her hand one last time before leaving the house.

* * *

><p>"Hey Erin!" Calum called as she made her way across the grid towards the pods, in order to go down to the interview room. Hesitantly, despite Harry's strict orders to be back down almost immediately, Erin dashed towards Calum, who had spun around in his seat to meet her.<p>

"Make it quick." She said, folding her arms in indication that he should get straight to the point.

Calum sighed, and rubbed his eyes tiredly, completely in contrast to the obnoxious young man he had been only a week previously. "You know you said you, Dimitri and Harry were going out to do secret business this morning, and that under no circumstances was I to tell anyone?"

Erin nodded, frowning slightly and wondering where exactly this was going, "Yeah."

"And this included not actually telling me what you were doing because you thought I might blab off?" Calum continued, folding his arms across his chest, trying to read Erin's stony face. Again, he watched his superior nod in recollection of the morning's events. "Well we've just had some bimbo from the CIA on the phone, demanding a certain Joseph Willard."

Erin was very thankful that she had been trained to avoid any signs of weakness in certain interrogations, and thus, she kept a straight face or feigned innocence. "What?" she asked.

"Yeah funny that." Calum agreed, not believing her for one minute. "Because they were quite insistent that at some point on Willard's journey to work this morning he was picked up by MI5; according to their CCTV cameras, by three officers to be precise, all of whom fit your descriptions."

"Yeah, that is funny." Erin agreed, still feigning complete innocence, and forcing herself to maintain eye contact with her colleague.

"No really," Calum continued, still observing her. "Considering they are now demanding their officer back on the grounds that we have no cause to detain him in this way. If we don't release him from our custody at once, they're going to bring out the big toys."

Erin gritted her teeth at the answer she would get from Harry if she even suggested releasing Willard, "And what did you say?"

"I," Calum said, turning back round to face his computer. "Told them to get some hard evidence that it was MI5 before they go around accusing people, and that also, we had never even heard of Willard."

"Right."

"Even though I know quite blatantly that he is down in the interview room, probably awaiting a rather harsh interrogation from Harry. It's also where you're heading right now."

Erin looked at him for a second, a slight upturn in her mouth being the only sign that she was rather amused by his ingenuity. "Don't be ridiculous." She denied, turning on her heel and hurrying back towards the pods.

By the time she reached the interview room, she spotted Harry pacing backwards and forwards whilst eyeing Willard, who was sitting apparently deeply troubled on the other side of the glass, with absolute loathing. In admittance she was deeply relieved Harry had not yet killed the younger man, yet she supposed this was only due to Dimitri's presence. Dimitri himself, was regarding Harry with a wide-eyed cautiousness, as if expecting him to leap at Willard's throat at any moment. As he heard her approach, Harry whirled round to meet her coldly.

"What took you so long?" he demanded angrily.

"I had to collect all the information we have on him; you want to nail him don't you?" Erin replied coolly, before recounting with regret what Calum had said. "And I've just seen Calum. He said the CIA is getting cranky at our having 'borrowed' Willard."

"How have they found out so quickly?" Dimitri asked, finally tearing his eyes away from Harry.

"Come on Dimitri," Harry growled. "They're CIA…we were lucky enough to go this long without them noticing."

"Well we'd better get it over with then." Erin replied. "Then we can let him go."

Harry's only expression in that moment was contempt, and as he eyes trailed back to Willard, his face filled with pure hatred. "He's not going anywhere."

"Harry," Erin said nervously. "Don't do anything stupid."

"That depends on whether he's going to act stupidly." Harry snapped bitterly, still eyeing Willard with cold regard.

"Harry," Erin said tentatively. "I think Dimitri and I should be the ones to-"

Harry spun round furiously and yelled, "He is not going to get away with what he did to Ruth!"

"Right," Dimitri agreed soothingly. "And we won't let him." Harry opened his mouth to protest yet again, but Dimitri continued boldly. "Harry, what would Ruth think if you got into trouble for doing something stupid? She needs someone right now, and it's quite plainly you. If you get arrested by the Americans for…doing something to one of their own, what will happen to her?"

Harry glared at his subordinate for a few moments, whilst considering his words. With great reluctance he realised he was right, and Harry closed his mouth again, attempting to cure his absurdly heavy breathing. He nodded only briefly, and Dimitri silently indicated to Erin to follow him into the interview room, before Harry changed his mind. All the while, the older man watched longingly as his two younger subordinates entered the room.

Willard's head shot up as the door swung open, only to be confronted with two stony faces. Erin and Dimitri crossed silently over to the tiny desk and sat down confidently, all the while with their eyes fixed on the worried-looking Willard.

"We've had some calls about you my friend," Dimitri started, regarding Willard with almost as much coldness as Harry was behind the glass. "It seems your little American friends want you back."

A sly, confident smile quickly slipped across Willard's face and he nodded viciously, "See, I told you that you wouldn't get away with this. Now let me go."

"Unfortunately for you," Dimitri continued pleasantly. "We don't always obey direct orders from the CIA. As a matter of fact they tend to consider MI5 as quite a bit of a rogue organisation." All three officers were incessantly pleased that the smug smile that had been on Willard's face only seconds beforehand had completely vanished without a trace. "Also, we're none-too-pleased about the things you and your little mates have been doing."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Willard insisted automatically, although he was clearly quite aware that he was not fooling anybody. Dimitri regarded his body language; his consistently fidgety hands, and sweaty forehead were condemning signs of the American man's definitive guilt.

"If I had a pound coin for every time I heard someone say that," Erin mused. "Then I would be rich by now."

"We have hard evidence that you and three other men forced your way in to Ruth Evershed's home five night's ago, and brutally raped her." Dimitri snapped coldly, no longer keeping up with the pleasant pretences, for the images of Ruth's conditions as he entered that house kept swimming around his mind.

At once, Willard's eyes widened before he could correct himself, and Dimitri could tell instantly that they had hauled in the right man. He felt a form of pleasure out of the discomfort Willard was now under and wished he could pay him back in kind for the damage he had done to a woman he respected ever since his first day on the grid. From behind the glass, Harry's fingers subconsciously curled into fists, so much so his nails were digging painfully into his palms but he found he did not care one little bit.

"I…I don't know what you're talking about." Willard tried to save himself from a situation that was already inevitable. His tone of voice was no longer booming and authoritative, but weedy and weak. He suddenly jumped as the room was filled with a definite agonising battering noise, as if someone was punching a hard surface, yet as Willard's eyes darted between Erin and Dimitri he saw that they had not moved a muscle, even though Erin's eyes shifted slightly. From behind the glass, Harry yelled in frustration and agony, withdrawing his fist from the contact it had made with the window and nursing his sore knuckles with his other hand.

"What was that?" Willard demanded, clearly quite unnerved.

"What was what?" Erin replied shortly. "Are you going to go about this the right way or are we going to have to go down another route?"

As the minutes dwindled by, all three officers found themselves wondering over Willard's condition, for he did appear genuinely scared, and not at all trained in the usual CIA protocols. For someone as high up in the CIA as himself, Erin thought that he would have at least have learnt basic interrogation avoidance techniques.

"What?" Willard asked dimly.

"You're a married man, is that right?" Dimitri stated, leaving no space for the other man to argue. Again, he watched the older man's eyes widen fearfully.

"What has that got to do with anything?" Willard demanded. "You leave my family out of this."

"You see, we know everything about you, Mr Willard." Dimitri continued, completely ignoring Willard's angry protests. "We know you married your wife just out of Harvard, she got pregnant but had a miscarriage, but five years ago you got lucky with the birth of your daughter, Sophie."

"I said leave it alone!" Willard exclaimed, slamming his fist noisily down on the desk.

"So you're a regular family man," Dimitri said, Willard's angry remarks yet again falling on deaf ears. "With a young daughter who clearly adores you, and waves you off to work every morning." Willard's expression was slowly growing more and more distraught as it dawned on him how frequently MI5 were watching the country. "You've got a family who clearly worship you, even though you've dragged them all the way from the United States, away from their lives, just so that you could take a position under Jim Coaver."

"Leave it! Leave it!" Willard cried, slowly growing more and more out of control. "You leave them out of this! They're innocent! They have nothing to do with this!"

"How about our colleague?" Dimitri demanded, unable to help himself. "How about Ruth Evershed, she'd done nothing wrong. She was innocent. How come she deserved to be-"

"She's not innocent," Willard sneered, apparently suddenly giving up his cover. "She's MI5. She's one of you."

Another loud bang sounded from behind the glass, and Willard went onto the alert once again. Harry could not help the silent tears that slid unchecked from the corner of his eye, as once again he nursed his now red raw hand.

"Well that's practically a confession if ever I heard one." Erin said smugly, folding her arms across her chest, completely ignoring Harry's outburst. "Tell me, does your wife know she goes to bed at night with a rapist?"

Willard slammed his fists down hard on the table again before he bellowed, "Shut up!"

"No," Dimitri corrected Erin, with a pleasant smile. "According to a source I shall not mention, our dear Mr Willard has had to sleep on the sofa recently. What's up? Problem with the Mrs?"

"Fuck you!" Willard roared. "That is none of your business."

"It seems you can't do anything right." Erin tutted, smiling pleasantly at the deeply furious American before her. "Although maybe you could redeem yourself slightly by giving us the names of the three other men who were with you on Friday night."

"I'm not telling you anything!" Willard growled, breathing so heavily the two officers thought he might hyperventilate. "And you have no right to talk to me about my family. I have rights! I have the right to have someone here to defend me against-"

However Willard did not snatch the chance to finish his sentence as the interview room door suddenly crashed open, slamming against the wall, and Harry stormed in with utter rage written across his features. He ignored his two subordinate colleagues who had risen from their chairs in a bid to stop him, and he charged towards Willard, seizing him roughly by the head and slamming it down hard against the table. Once the American had cried out in agony, Harry pinned his head and neck to the desk with an agonising grip, whilst he remained completely ignorant to the pain that was flooding through his injured hand.

"Harry…Harry stop." Erin said loudly, moving over to where Harry was forcing Willard's head to the desk, but Harry would not relinquish his grip.

"You have absolutely NO rights you little bastard!" Harry yelled at Willard, who was trying to wriggle free of his firm grip. "You gave up those rights when you raped an innocent woman on Friday night. What would your little girl think of her Daddy if she found out, or even if she saw what he had done to that woman? Do you still think she would idolise him? Well you know what, you pathetic little man, I don't care if we have to tell her to get results from you! The way I am feeling right now, I don't give damn if I have to threaten the life of your wife and child; I don't give a fuck if one of them gets killed! Why should I care? I've been in the army- I've seen women and children killed in circumstances less than this!"

"No!" Willard screamed, this time truly terrified. "No, you leave them alone!"

Harry briefly lifted Willard's head up for a few seconds before he slammed it back down on to the able, even harder than before. "Maybe you should have thought about that before you rammed your trousers down!" Harry yelled.

"Harry for God's sake stop!" Erin cried, tugging on his arm, yet Harry would still not pay any attention to her pleas. Dimitri stood helplessly in the middle of the commotion, at a loss as to where his loyalties lay.

"That woman is pregnant!" Harry continued, completely out of control of his emotions. Dimitri's eyes widened at Harry's sudden admission, and his gaze slipped to Erin who had suddenly released Harry's arm and was staring at him in both shock and horror. "You remember how difficult it was for you to get your wife pregnant; how much you wanted that baby? Well what if Ruth had lot hers eh, because of what you did?"

"Stop it!" Willard grunted thickly, as Erin and Dimitri became aware that in that last slam into the table, he had hit his nose which had caused it to start bleeding.

"You give me the names of the men you were with!" Harry yelled.

"N…no." Willard managed.

"GIVE ME THE NAMES!" Harry roared, completely out of all control.

"Harry STOP!" Erin yelled amongst the noise, yet she was a voice still unheard.

"I…I don't know the names!" Willard grunted helplessly. "We were hired out to make a bit of money on the side! I didn't know who the others were, and I only saw their faces briefly when we met up on the night!"

"Yeah right! I'll get someone on the phone right now to go to your house and-"

"Honestly!" Willard pleaded. "We weren't told the names! And we were contacted via email, we never met face to face!"

"Who hired you?" Harry demanded, shaking the younger man with surprising agility. "I said who hired you!"

"It was Coaver!" Willard screamed desperately. "Jim Coaver!"

**Dun dun dun...hope you enjoyed that even if it was a bit long. But I was trying to make up for the great distance of time in which I haven't updated. Anyway, next chapter...Harry tries to get Ruth to smile, Ruth goes back to work, and people start to find out - including the Home Secretary... Please review. I do so love them and they make me smile and the end of a long hard day. :)**


	20. Chapter 20

**Okay...well this cahpter didn't go quite the way I was expecting it to. For one thing, it's a great deal longer than I intended, but along the way I have promised you a tiny bit of fluff, so here is the best I can do for the moment. But things are about to get rocky between HR again, so be warned ;) Thank you ever SO MUCH for the reviews. They were amazing :)**

"I'm going to kill him." Harry said in such a levelly, dangerously calm tone that Erin and Dimitri were genuinely scared for Coaver's life. There was an underlying hint within the sentence that Coaver might quite likely ended up at the bottom of the Thames, dying a very painful, but unnoticed death. Harry was pacing up and down in his office, observed by his two subordinates, whilst his breathing grew rapidly faster as he walked. All Harry could think of in that moment was the intricate web of lies, deceit and betrayal that James Coaver, his supposed friend must have spun throughout all these years. If he was responsible for Ruth's attack then that also meant he was probably responsible for Elena's attempted assassination, and was surely the man posing as himself in those notes to Elena. He could not possibly decipher as to why Coaver was doing this but Harry vowed that he would find out, even if it was the last thing he ever did.

"Harry don't do anything stupid." Erin said again, however her confidence and authority seemed deeply shaken after Harry's lashing out at Willard during his interrogation. Before she and Dimitri had wrestled him out of the room, Willard had been identified as sporting a bleeding, possibly broken nose, and several large bruises on his face. She got the strong impression that this was merely minor damage in comparison to the dish of justice Harry really desperately wanted to serve.

"Don't do anything stupid eh Erin?" Harry repeated, still maintaining his apparently level composure; however both she and Dimitri could tell he was anything but. "Why would I do anything stupid? I mean, I have just discovered that a man I thought was one of 5's greatest allies, and one of my greatest friends, authorised the rape of the woman I care most about in the world. I suppose you think I should be calm. Well, here I am Erin…being calm."

"Harry you're anything but." Erin argued, carefully saying nothing about the shocking revelation about Ruth that had been uncovered during the interrogation. She did not quite feel Harry was up to that at the moment. "Why don't you go home?"

"Home?" Harry repeated, glaring at her as if she had just come up with the most stupid idea of the century.

"Yes." Erin said, maintaining her resolve.

"You want me to go…home." Harry repeated, checking to make sure he had heard her – a subordinate ordering _him_ to go home.

"I think it's probably for the best." Erin said, sucking her teeth in order to remain unchanged by Harry's terrible glare.

"I am not going anywhere." Harry said decisively, completely ignoring her comment and turning away towards his desk. "Our next move is to bring in Coaver, so we can see what he has to say for himself-"

"Bring in Coaver?" Erin cried suddenly, clearly deeply frustrated by Harry's obsessive behaviour. "Harry for goodness sake, I know you don't care about your job, but Dimitri and I do…and we've already risked so much bringing in Willard. How on earth can you expect us to willingly bring in Coaver too? Jim Coaver…a major CIA boss."

In a sudden burst of rage, Harry leapt towards his desk with surprising agility and tossed a pile of papers unceremoniously on to the floor with a loud crash. Both Erin and Dimitri jumped in shock, and Harry whirled round to glare at Erin in pure anger, his breathing worse more uncontrolled than ever.

"You dare to stand there and complain about your job being on the line when Ruth's been attacked in such a way!" he yelled, all daggers.

Deeply disturbed by her boss's behaviour, Erin nonetheless tried to remain nonchalant, "You know what Harry…I do. Because I have a six year old daughter who I need to cater for, and without this job how the hell do you think I am going to provide for her? I don't know Ruth, Harry. I know everyone adores her, and I know she is a lovely woman, but I have to put Rosie first!"

Harry's temper halted as quickly as it had started and he stared vaguely at Erin for a moment, attempting to engage his breathing in a pattern which he could control. Dimitri stared wide-eyed between the two, still saying nothing. After a few moments of thought Harry nodded, "You're right Erin…of course you're…" Harry tried to produce a reassuring smile, but it ended up as more of a grimace. "Don't worry…I'll…do what I have to do. I know I can't expect you two to go along with it."

"Harry what are you going to do to Coaver?" Erin asked quickly, deeply relieved that he was no longer so furious, but still quite frightened of the fate Harry was planning for the American.

"Well, I'll see what he has to say for himself first." Harry growled grimly. "I want to know why he had four men attack Ruth, I want to know why he posed as me in some letters to Elena Gavrik," At this moment, Erin and Dimitri tried not to look as if this was news to them. "And I also want to know whether he is responsible for the murder of an innocent, twenty-seven year old officer."

"I'll help." Dimitri spoke up suddenly, and both Harry and Erin whirled round to look at him. The young officer was standing with his arms tightly folded, with his eyebrows creased into a determined frown. "I'll bust Coaver with you…whenever you want to do it."

Harry expression in that moment was caught between pride and shock, and he saw, perhaps for the first time, how much Dimitri had grown up over the past few years. He seemed to have aged twenty years in wisdom and experience in just the last week or so, and for this Harry did not know whether he ought to be inexplicably proud or saddened. "I can't ask you to do that Dimitri," Harry conceded eventually, although sorely tempted by his younger officer's offer. "Erin's right- there's no need to drag the both of you down with me."

"Yeah well maybe I'm doing it for Ruth." Dimitri argued firmly, barely raising an eyebrow at Harry objection. "If it had been one of us, she would have done the same. I know this job means a lot to her, but its people that mean more to her…it's just the way she is. And if one of us had been attacked in the same way she had, she wouldn't rest until she had found out who had done it and why."

Harry stared at the young man for a moment and swallowed. It occurred to him that these days, perhaps Dimitri knew Ruth better than he did, for _he_ had been the one to watch out for her when his boss had been caught up in the slimy tentacles of the inquiry. Erin in that moment, looked distinctly uncomfortable, if not ashamed of her earlier words. Harry knew that he could not refuse him after that speech:

"Thank you Dimitri." He said gratefully, eyes shining with respect.

* * *

><p>Harry slammed the car door shut, cringing as the cold metal made heavy contact with the mottled bruising on his right-hand knuckles, left over from his fury with Willard. He hated to consider what Ruth would think upon seeing the bruises; she would most likely berate him for losing his temper once again. Or at least the old Ruth would have. Now he was really not sure what to expect with her, due to her increasingly short temper and incessant mood changes, not helped no doubt by the pregnancy.<p>

As he approached his front door, Harry pondered whether she would have caught up on any sleep whilst he had been away, or whether she had sat curled up on the sofa over-analysing ever memory of the event time after time, with those wide frightened eyes. He pulled the tiny metallic key out of his coat pocket and turned it into the lock. He slipped inside and closed the door firmly behind him, placing the key carefully back into this pocket. For an instant, Harry listened intently for any immediate sounds that came to attention. It was an unfortunate habit that he had occupied; part of being a spy he supposed- feeling the need to check he was not under attack at any given moment. He was just about to dismiss thoughts with the confidence that all was alright, when he heard tiny snuffling noises, sounding from the back of the house.

"Ruth!" Harry called, trying his hardest to keep the sudden panic out of his voice. "Ruth I'm home!"

Had he not been as worried, he might have stopped for just a second to ponder the domesticity of the comment, however the snuffling continued to worry him, and so he strode quietly through the hall, peering into the sitting room as he went. Satisfied that there was no sign of her in there, he moved onwards down the tiny corridor, until he became aware that the sniffling was growing louder and louder each second. Now certain that the curious noise was coming from his kitchen, Harry carefully reached for the brass doorknob of the kitchen door before reconsidering this. Instead he knocked tentatively on against the mahogany wood:

"Ruth? Ruth are you alright?" He was not awarded with any reply, except the continuation of those awful sniffles, which now dawned on Harry to be the heart-breaking sounds of a human being crying. Knowing he should have expected this, Harry sighed miserably for her, and twisted the doorknob so that the door swung open.

Ruth was half-slumped, half-crouched against the hard tiles of the kitchen floor, her hair splayed loosely and messily over her face and floor. The sight of her red blotchy eyes covered with her tiny, shaking hands was enough to break Harry's heart. Wracking sobs were continuously being released from her mouth, coupled by the occasional sniffle and hiccough. She was surrounded by shards of glass, clearly the remains of one of his glasses which for some reason had crashed to the floor. He hated to think about how long she had been in this state, but all that was important at that moment was to get her up off the floor and onto the comfortable sofa in the sitting room.

"Ruth." Harry hushed softly, falling onto his knees beside her, and easing her trembling form into his embrace. "It's alright…you're alright."

Ruth continued to sob into his chest, and Harry realised just how difficult a task it would be to manoeuvre her from this position into the living room, whilst she was still in this state. So he dismissed all thoughts of this journey for at least the next few minutes, instead cuddling her to him, whilst she surprisingly, but gratefully clung to him in desperation. He raised no objections and merely rocked her against him tenderly, running his hand soothingly through her hair, whilst whispering gentle words of comfort. After what seemed like an eternity, Ruth began to slowly calm down, enough for Harry to clamber to his feet and raise her limp form from the ground with a whisper of "Come on sweetheart." With that he led her carefully through to the lounge, and seated her comfortably on the brown chintz sofa. It took a further fifteen minutes to allow her to calm down properly, but Harry waited patiently, eventually deciding to clear up the dangerous mess in the kitchen. By the time he had tackled the glass shards with a dustpan and brush, and deposited them in the bin, he found Ruth looking much more herself; in fact seeming more than a little ashamed. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap portraying the tension that was still running full-flow through her body, however her red eyes looked a great deal less puffy and upset. Harry took the time to notice now that there were large dark bags underneath her eyes, a tell-tale sign that she had not slept one wink that day, despite her claims that she would.

"I'm so sorry." Ruth said hurriedly, as he dared to seat himself next to her on the sofa. "I…I don't know what came over me…it all just came out at once."

"What happened?" he asked her gently, jerking his thumb back in the direction of the now tidied kitchen.

Ruth bowed her head slowly, looking most ashamed of herself whilst she began to twist her hands convulsively in her lap. Seeing her shame and reluctance to reply, he prompted her lightly, "Whatever it is, I won't think it's silly, believe me."

Despite his incredibly reassuring words, it took almost another minute for her to summon the courage to speak her mind, "I just…I was…doing the washing up after that breakfast you made me this morning-"

"Did you eat it?" Harry interrupted pointedly. He could tell by Ruth's silence and resumed shameful expression that she had not; Harry strongly suspected that the morning sickness he witnessed that morning had not been the only bout she had suffered that day. "Never mind." He said, quick to reassure her.

"I'm sorry." Ruth said sincerely. "I just…couldn't stomach it." At Harry's understanding nod she continued. "I was washing up when…when I heard a noise outside the kitchen door and…and I thought…"

Harry swallowed heavily as he heard her utter those words; his heart froze at the very thought of an unwelcome visitor in the same house as Ruth, let alone the same room.

"I was about to back away when the door was flung open…and there was this…barking. It was a dog…"

"Oh shit!" Harry cursed himself angrily. Not once had he warned Ruth about Scarlet, his excitable, yet dozy dog, who came and went around the house as she pleased. It just so happened that she had kept herself out of sight that previous night, before deciding to make an appearance right at the moment when Ruth was at her most vulnerable.

"I…I know it's silly." She continued quickly, apparently mistaking his outburst for him thinking her silly. "But…but it was a shock…and then I dropped the glass and…and the dog started growling and leaping up…and…and suddenly it…washed over me…everything that's happened…I couldn't seem to stop crying."

"What time was this?" Harry asked aghast.

"It must have been around ten o'clock." Ruth said, once again bowing her head to look at her fidgety hands.

Harry consulted his watch and realised with horror that it was now quarter past six. Ruth had been slumped on the floor, crying on and off for the past eight hours or so. He could tell from her exhausted form that she had been too tired to even have the energy to get up from the place where she had collapsed.

"I told you that you would think I'm silly." Ruth whispered quietly.

Harry tried his best to smile reassuringly, taking her hand in his to emphasise this, "Not at all. I should have told you about that bloody dog in the first place. She's mine…she's called Scarlet. From time to time she likes to make an appearance but at others she likes hiding in various inconspicuous places, spying on people. She shouldn't have leapt up at you like that though…I'll make a point of telling her off when I eventually find her. She'll just have been curious as to why you were there and I wasn't…she wandered off after a time I see."

Ruth nodded mutely, and Harry squeezed her hand gently, "Why on earth didn't you ring me Ruth?"

It took a few seconds for Ruth to summon an answer. "I didn't want you…thinking I was an invalid even more than you do…embarrassed." She mumbled, virtually incoherently.

"I don't think you're an invalid." Harry protested weakly, but realising how it must have seemed when he persuaded her to stay at home.

"It feels like I'm one." Ruth admitted slowly, although in a tone that was not accusing at all. "We couldn't have drifted further apart since you came back, and we were more or less at each other's throats half the time. Then…then this happens, and suddenly I'm having to admit to both you and I that I'm pregnant and you're being so incredibly kind and caring and…and I'm suddenly staying in my boss's house."

Harry's shoulders dropped quite considerably at her final few words, "I'm not doing this as your boss though Ruth. Is that really how you see me?"

He was quite pleased at her immediate response to his question, "No…but others will…" she trailed off upon looking at Harry's expression. It was not dissimilar to the time she had refused to go on another date with him, nearly five years, due to office gossip. It occurred to her just how much she was still frightened of what other people thought of her, hence the other reason she had been so scared to call Harry. She was ashamed of being a constant burden to him; ashamed of him finding her in these states, particularly after he found her at her house nearly a week ago.

"What am I doing Harry?" Ruth whispered staring desperately at him; taken aback harry stared confusedly back at her. "What right have I got to be feeling like this…to constantly be demanding your attentions…whilst everyone is feeling sorry for me they're completely disregarding Tariq. Doesn't he deserve any justice? He was just a boy…we've got to find out who-"

"And we will," Harry eased her gently. "We're doing everything we can, and believe me, by finding out who did this to you, I am almost certain we'll find the people who murdered Tariq."

"So they are connected then?" Ruth asked wanly.

"Like I said, I'm almost certain of it." Harry stated grimly, before spotting just how incredibly tired Ruth looked with her drooping eyelids, and loosening muscles.

"You're exhausted," he said sweetly, subconsciously kissing the top of her head. "Get some sleep."

"I want to go back to work tomorrow." She said suddenly, and without warning.

Harry stared at her in surprise; her tiredness had suddenly been drained and replaced with a fierce determination, not unlike the normal Ruth. Yet as he considered the events of the past few days, and the state he had found her in upon returning home, he knew he had a responsibility to fight against her.

"I don't think that's a good idea…especially after what happened today-"

"It happened because I was in a strange house alone, doing nothing to take my mind off things and…and so I…fell apart. At least I wouldn't have a chance to do that on the Grid…I'd be around people-"

"Exactly." Harry stated firmly." You've barely been around people since…what happened…if you're placed on a suddenly very full and noisy grid, your feelings might be a little…overwhelming."

She looked away from him again miserably, and stared at the wooden floorboards, as if taking in every inch of them in infinite detail. "At least I wouldn't be feeling so useless."

Harry took the time to consider her fully, taking in her weary form yet determined eyes. He truly wanted to do the best possible thing for her, but at that moment he could not choose what the best option was. On the one hand, he had absolute faith in the old Ruth, that she would overcome any deep emotions and do her work just as immaculately as usual, yet on the other, this newly vulnerable woman could come out on the other side with a great deal more stress, which could in the long run prove harmful to the baby.

Harry sighed, praying he was not going to regret this, "Okay." He watched Ruth look hopefully up at him. "Okay, you can go in but," Harry hesitated, wondering what exactly he was going to say. "But don't get any silly ideas about taking the bus or anything…I'll drive us both in the morning. And no stressful work…you can…do some filing."

He stopped short of that, realising he must demeaning her in just the way she had always hated, when she was clearly so much better at her job than that. To his surprise however, she just nodded dully and obediently. He felt his own shoulders sag visibly at seeing that light and passionate which had flickered for just a few seconds, drain from her once more. He sensed that a change in topic might be in order, and he spent the next few seconds or so searching for a suitable one.

"Have you eaten anything all day?" he asked quietly. He watched her slowly raise her head in happiness at the change of topic, yet he still felt saddened as she shook it resolutely.

"Can you stomach some tea?" Harry asked, hoping her answer would be positive. He could tell she desperately wanted to shake her head and refuse, yet she perhaps she sensed she had already asked him for too much, and she nodded slowly.

It dawned on Harry that he was also incredibly tired, and was in no mood to be cooking in a boiling hot kitchen; more to the point he knew he had left Ruth on her own for too long that day. He wanted to have the decency to at least stay with her until the end of the night now.

"How about something plain…I could order out for some fish and chip suppers."

"What is it with you and fish?" Ruth asked, her tone lighter than he had ever heard it recently. Had he been studying her face closely he might have caught a smile, and he cursed himself quietly for missing it.

"Coincidence." He replied lightly, hauling himself up off the sofa, and over to the cabinet at the far side of the room, on top of which stood a small, cream coloured telephone; it was surprisingly out of date in comparison to the rest of the technology he had around the house – something which puzzled Ruth slightly. "It just so happens that we've had fish for two nights running." He continued grinning at her, and pressing the numbers deftly in to the keypad.

Ruth was already nodding in agreement, when the man at the other end of the line picked up. She half listened to Harry order two regular fish suppers, whilst slumping down a little on the sofa, so that half of her back was resting against the arm of the sofa. Harry placed the phone down and turned round to stare at her, seeing her half closed eyes and exhausted form, he smiled at just how adorable she really looked. She had lifted her feet up on the sofa so that she was all but lying on it, and her eyes were fixed on him, watching what he would do next. He considered telling her to sleep until the meals arrived, however he knew she would simply refuse and become distressed again at the prospect of nightmares. He then wondered if he should question her about what had happened, yet he vetoed this thought more or less immediately upon just glancing at how tired and emotionally-drained she was after today. He glanced around the room uncomfortably with her gaze still on him, until his eyes suddenly came into contact with the television in the corner of the room. Although he knew he had an ashamedly tiny number of DVDs, and very few video cassettes, he decided that the television would be his best option; something which they could enjoy each other's company with, yet was pretty much brainless. Decisively taking action, Harry strolled over to the television, picked up the remote which was sitting on the top of it and switched it on. Within seconds, sound filled the silence of the room, and the screen flickered into motion. He wandered back over to where Ruth was curled up, and smiled at her gently, "Budge up you."

Ruth obeyed with the tiniest upturn of the mouth, and shuffled further over so that her legs were now beneath her, allowing Harry to settle himself next to her. She sat rigidly and awkwardly to begin with, so he slid his arm lightly around her back and pulled her closer to him; after a few tense minutes she began to loosen and settled quite contentedly with her head resting against his left shoulder. Harry continually clicked the remote to find some tenuously absorbing programme, purposely flicking past the news, and firmly bypassing the cookery shows, which were possibly even more dull than the music channels. All but giving up on a good television programme, he settled on an episode of the Weakest Link, despite his utter detestation of Anne Robinson. He could not help the irritation that rose within him some minutes later when a young man, who could not have been older than a University graduate received the question 'Who took the leading role in the 1952 American comedy musical _Singin' in the Rain_?'. He clicked his tongue in irritation as the young man took nearly fifteen seconds to ponder his question, before he replied uncertainly, 'Bing Crosby?'

"Bing Cros-" Harry repeated in utter indignation. "It was Gene Kelly. Bonehead." He added viciously.

From her place against his shoulder, he did not notice Ruth's cheeks rise into a slight, but this time quite definite smile in reaction to his outburst. He listened to Harry grow even more furious as the questions continued to circle the contestants, without one of them saying 'bank' to secure their money. "Bank." He muttered in irritation. As the questions reached the final contestant before the second round of questions were put forward to the contestants he growled, "Bank." The questions went round again with no one securing some money in the amount the winner would get to take home. "Bank you idiots." He suddenly growled very loudly at the television, letting out a sudden choking noise from Ruth. Initially, Harry still did not notice but as he deemed yet another player a 'bonehead', he suddenly felt her shaking in his arms, and he looked down concernedly at her, to see what the matter was. Expecting her to be crying again, the surprise he received was most welcome as he came face to face with a laughing Ruth. Not only were her cheeks bones now raised firmly into a smile, but she was also laughing; albeit rather spasmodically and throatily due to the amount of crying she had done that day, but nevertheless, an unmistakable laugh. Most importantly, it was the sort of affectionate laugh that met your eyes, and true enough, her recently greyish eyes were sparkling that brilliant, blissfully bright blue. Harry had never seen a more beautiful sight, nor had he ever heard a more beautiful laugh, that sounded like it was being produced by an angel. He could not remember the last time she had laughed.

He forced his mouth into a mockingly stern expression, "Are you laughing at me Miss Evershed?" he demanded, though the twinkle in his eye was the major give away that he was not angry at all.

"Not…at…all." Ruth spluttered between laughs, realising just how good it felt to laugh after so long of being unable to do so.

"I beg to differ," he replied, maintaining with difficulty his stern expression. "Hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to laugh at your boss?"

"Apparently…not." Ruth spluttered again, now reaching up to wipe tears from her eyes. "But then again…I have…never know a boss who goes around calling…all employees who are not as gifted as…he is…bonehead."

"I'll take that as a compliment Ruth." He said, unable to maintain his pretence any longer, and his face broke into a proper grin, the first he had been able to form in days. He watched her laugh joyfully for a few minutes more, occasionally setting her off with comments suck as 'see- he's a bonehead as well', and 'bank!', before her laughter died down. Embarrassed, yet unable to prevent himself from doing to, Harry leant into Ruth and kissed her temple, "You look beautiful when you laugh." He commented gently.

As she might have done so years before, Ruth blushed at the compliment, but said nothing for an instant. After considering his statement for a moment, she smiled back at him, "Thank you." She whispered, and to his surprise and utter joy, she reached up and kissed his cheek.

* * *

><p>Harry awoke to the unmistakeable, very noisy sound of high-pitched barking, and he reluctantly opened his eyes to find Scarlet trotting along the wooden floorboards of his living room floor, yapping loudly for her breakfast. Judging by the slivers of daylight now making themselves present through the gap in the curtains, he realised that for some reason he was still in his living room, and he had not taken himself off the bed last night. Staring blearily round he caught sight of one empty and one half full plate on the coffee table nearby, and the memories of the previous night came flooding back to him. He suddenly became aware of a slight heaviness against his chest, and the fact that he was unable to move his very numb left arm and he looked round to find Ruth snuggled warmly into his chest, with her back leaning against his left arm, which accounted for the fact that he could not move it. Upon staring at the clock on the mantle and realising that it was only four o'clock in the morning, and that it was far too early for Scarlet's breakfast it suddenly dawned on him just what she had been barking at. He felt Ruth shift restlessly against him, moaning quietly and incoherently into his side; he watched her face contort for a few seconds before he stirred himself into action and began to shake her gently awake from her nightmare. It was a small comforting thought that at least one had not been as bad as the recent ones during which she had screamed herself hoarse until harry managed to shake her conscious. He could not help but wonder if the previous night had had anything to do with it; he prayed it had. He almost smiled, as he continued to shake her awake, upon thinking about that beautiful laugh and smile on her face; the magic feel of her lips against his cheek.<p>

"Come on Ruth." He whispered in her ear, tugging on her arm gently until she stirred. "Wake up."

On his fourth attempt, he released her arm after he watched her eyelids flicker briefly and then open quickly. Her previously quickened breathing began to decelerate slightly, and she focused her eyes around her. Upon seeing where exactly she was positioned, against Harry, she jumped back to the other side of the sofa.

"Sorry." She mumbled quietly, very pale-faced in the aftermath of her nightmare.

"Don't be." Harry replied honestly, feeling a little bereft without her touch. "Honestly, it's fine."

He flashed her a smile that told her it was more than fine, and she blushed and bowed her head to stare at the floorboards.

"We must have fallen asleep and not go to bed last night." Harry said pointlessly, realising he was developing a habit of pointing out the obvious to her these days, when he felt awkward. In actual fact, she had been so exhausted that she had fallen asleep in Harry's arms halfway through her meal, so that he had had to lift it off her lap and place its unfinished form on to the coffee table. Since at the time she seemed to be sleeping perfectly contentedly without the worry of nightmares he had been reluctant to wake her, and so due to the fact that he would disturb her if he moved her to get up and put himself to bed, he had stayed watching over her; eventually he must have drifted off himself. Although he would never admit it to her, for fear of Ruth thinking he was taking advantage of her, he had rather enjoyed falling asleep together on the sofa. It had seemed so…_right_.

"What time is it?" Ruth asked stiffly, still not having entirely woken up from her nightmare.

"About five past four in the morning." He replied, saddened by their sudden awkwardness.

Ruth nodded and opened her mouth to say something, when she caught sight of the half full plate of fish and chips, and quickly slapped her hand over her mouth and got unsteadily to her feet in a bid to hurry to the bathroom. Her bruises still sore, she all but limped out of the room and even though she was in such a hurry, she could not seem to go faster. Harry quickly shot up from his place of the sofa and ignoring his extremely painful twinge in his back placed one arm around her waist and the other on her arm. Together they ascended the stairs as quickly as possible and just as he had done over the past few nights, he held back her hair and kissed her temple as she vomited into the toilet bowl. Thankfully, it did not last long and he could tell that the morning sickness would begin to die down from now on. He stroked her forehead one last time as Ruth nodded in indication that she had finished; he attempted to bring his hand down to rest at his side but she suddenly caught hold of it and frowned. Harry cursed as he saw it was the one with the bruised knuckles, following his run in with Willard; since then, rather than heal, the bruises had become more defined and purple. She stared at his hand for a few moments before she said quietly:

"What did you do to your hand?"

Initially, Harry purposely made no response, but as he watched her features he could tell she had already worked the basics of the story out. He gritted his teeth and sighed, "I…had a little disagreement with a criminal." He said simply.

"Harry what happened?" she questioned, not falling for his vague explanation for even a minute.

"We snatched Willard and the bastard was being so smug…I couldn't stand it."

Ruth paled visibly at the mention of Willard's name, but she stared determinedly up at him. "You shouldn't have punched him." She admonished quietly. Harry was about to argue that he had done it in her honour, but he could tell that behaving like a knight in shining armour was not going to do her self-esteem any good. "I know." He admitted after a beat.

"I'm not saying I don't like it though." Ruth said slowly, eyes fixed firmly on the floor and her cheeks suddenly a deep red. Her eyes widened suddenly in horror, and Harry sensed that perhaps she had not meant to actually say that out loud.

"Don't worry Ruth," he smiled amusedly. "I won't tell anyone."

Harry felt his heart start to beat faster as she produced a small, shy smile; unlike all the times his heart had nearly beat itself ragged over the last few days, this time it was a pleasant feeling.

"But aren't you going to get into trouble?" Ruth questioned him, now forcing herself to have the courage to look up into his hazel eyes. "Your job is only temporary as it is – what happens when people find out you've attacked a member of the CIA?"

"Coaver will look worse." Harry growled, unable to help the loathing that filled his voice now whenever he mentioned Coaver's name.

If it was possible, Ruth paled even further at Harry's rather obvious accusation; her eyes grew wide and frightened, and her breathing quickened just a pace. "Is he…did he order them to…" She had difficulty finishing the sentence so Harry took her hand and squeezed it gently.

"It looks like it." He admitted. "Willard – that slime ball admitted it-"

Ruth frowned in spite of herself, "How did you get him to do that?"

"I have my ways." Harry replied enigmatically, secretly desperate not to actually tell her how he got the information out of Willard. He was either afraid of how upset she might get at the suggestion of a family man doing such a terrible thing to her, or that she might be angry at the way he, Harry had used the man's family to get to him. As Ruth frowned and opened her mouth to persist the question, Harry looked at her in a mockingly stern fashion. "Are you questioning my abilities Ruth?"

In spite of the unpleasant images that had arisen in her mind at the mention of Coaver and Willard, she could not help but smile at Harry's sweet expression. "No," she replied firmly. "Not at all."

Harry smiled in an attempt at hiding his guilt and consulted his watch, "It's twenty-six minutes to five. You should get a couple more hours of sleep." He said looking at the dark circles under her eyes.

"So should you." Ruth replied quietly, not unlike the cheeky young woman she used to be when she first joined the grid. Harry felt incredible warmth flood through him at the signs that Ruth was going to get better after all. Although she was still traumatised by what had happened, he had renewed faith that maybe she could pull herself through it – just enough to accept what had happened to her and move on, for he knew from past experience with Jo and other women in the same situation, that you could never entirely forget.

"I'll be alright." Harry assured her. "Don't forget…I'm used to living on about four to five hours sleep, often less."

Ruth felt it prudent not to mention that most of the time these days, even before the attack, she had barely got in more than two hours sleep a night. "I don't want to go back to sleep Harry." She whispered, trying unsuccessfully to keep the fear out of her voice. "I…can't."

Harry nodded understandingly, wishing he could begin to heal her unconscious mind as well as her conscious. As he considered the prospect of taking Ruth back to work, Harry could still not help but do so reluctantly, his mind full of worry. Despite her progress, he was not sure whether she was ready to face up to all of her friends and colleagues; knowing how easily ashamed she was, he feared how she would ever face up to Dimitri, after all he had been present in the room when she had first been found. Still, Harry continued to force himself to nod, and took both her hands to help her up. "In that case, a spot of breakfast…and then…back to work."

**Hope you enjoyed that...but I couldn't resist writing more HR progress before the Drama and plot really hots up. Next up, Ruth really does go back to work, and the inquiry find out about Ruth's little secret...;) Please review!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Okay...first off I am so sorry for the lack of updates, but it has been a work frenzy recently. Luckily things have calmed down in the run-up to Christmas day and I am hoping to post another chapter within the next few days. I hope you are still enjoying this fic and that it is not too sluggish for you. I have to say, thank you so much to you fabulous people who reviewed, and I wish you all a merry christmas. Please review again xxx**

Following a rather unspectacular breakfast of toast and marmite, apparently the only thing Ruth was able to face after her sickness that morning, Harry had informed her that he would wash up whilst she changed in to something for work. Knowing full well she would need her privacy for something like that, he hid downstairs and washed up the two plates, whilst wrinkling his nose at the horrific smell of marmite. It was extremely odd, he thought, that with the regards to the fact that he detested marmite, he actually had some lying around in his kitchen cupboard. He rather suspected it was left over from one of the times the inquiry had tasked a man to follow his every move; thus Harry had needed an escape route and the only one available had been in a small convenience store at the end of the street. He must have picked up the first items he saw during his cover and then slipped out of the back entrance. He smirked unashamedly at the thought of the expression of that young man, who must have waited for at least thirty minutes before following him inside the shop, only the find that Harry had mysteriously vanished.

Harry finished off scrubbing away at the last, now dry plate, flipping the tea towel casually over his shoulder whilst he carefully slipped both the plates back into the cupboard. It was then he became aware of the clatter of footsteps on the wooden stairs; the pace was slow and most likely still stiff and painful, but nevertheless, Harry was proud of her independence, especially regarding the state she had been in since the attack. He removed the damp tea towel from his shoulder and tossed it onto the rack next to the cupboard, just in time to see Ruth emerge through the kitchen door. She wore a long-sleeved, high-neck, navy blue top, accompanied by a warm-looking cardigan of a similar colour. Harry could not help but notice that she was not wearing a skirt which was her usual work attire; instead she wore a pair of plain black trousers, and underneath them, flat heeled boots. Ruth's face was the picture of anxiety, and her fingers were plucking at the edge of her cardigan. Harry again questioned whether or not she was ready to be going back to work, but he reasoned it was better to keep an eye on her at the grid, than risk anything like what happened yesterday. She was apparently very aware of Harry staring unashamedly at her, and she bowed her head in nervousness, also seemingly conscious of the fact that she was wearing clothes that covered practically every inch of her body. She opened her mouth to say something but then closed it after a moment of hesitation, and Harry had the distinct impression she wanted to ask him if she looked alright. He looked her up and down before saying very honestly and very quietly:

"You look beautiful Ruth." Her eyes grew wide and a blush tinted her pale skin, as her gaze shot up to meet his and he continued. "You always do."

She stood there for a few moments, her mouth opening and closing rapidly, whilst her blush deepened to such an extent she had gone bright red. Slightly concerned, Harry moved closer to her, "What's wrong? Is everything alright?"

Ruth looked as if she wanted to say something else rather than the concise answer she provided, "I…I'm fine." Her eyes descended to the kitchen tiles again, and the resumption of her fingers fidgeting with her cardigan brought Harry into awareness that everything was not 'fine'. He reached forward a hand to still her fiddling one, and wrapped his fingers around hers, forcing her gaze to retreat back up to his.

"Ruth," he said sternly, in a tone that brooked no argument. "What is it?"

"N…nothing…it's really…nothing." As she caught sight of his concerned expression, she added hastily. "There's nothing wrong…really…there's nothing that's _upset_ me."

Harry frowned confusedly, "Then what's the matter?"

"Really," Ruth said desperately, her eyes now beseeching him not to pursue the subject any further. "Nothing's the matter. Just…please leave it…you'll think I'm silly, and I'll become embarrassed again and…I've already had quite enough of that recently."

Harry wanted to do as she said, for he could see that if he pursed the subject for much longer, searching for an answer like a dog with a bone, she might become distressed again, and any progress they had made would be destroyed. Yet, he could not stop his shameful curiosity, "Ruth, you've hardly embarrassed yourself in front of me," at her sceptical look he added. "Really you haven't. And if you have then…then I haven't noticed. I'm a man aren't I…aren't we supposed to be generally ignorant and unobservant about these things?"

He watched as another slight, heart-stopping smile appeared at the corner of her mouth. She considered his statement for a moment, still staring at the floor before saying quietly, "But you're not most men. You're a spook…it's your job to be observant."

Harry smiled at her slight jest before pursuing his question, "Ruth, what's the matter?"

Ruth sighed, now apparently very aware that he was not going to drop the subject. He could almost see the little cogs in her brain forming the argument that this was another aspect of his job that he was good at – interrogation. He felt her hand twitch a little in his gasp as if wanting to resume plucking at the cardigan but he held it still and tight.

"No one…"she began very slowly, and hesitantly. She closed her mouth and shrugged her shoulders in an attempt at giving up, but Harry squeezed her hand gently to encourage her to continue. "No one…I mean…I've never…" She took a deep breath in and released it back out again before saying virtually incoherently, "No one's…no one's ever told me I…look beautiful."

As soon as the words left her lips, her head shot up to meet his eyes, as if daring him to laugh. He did not laugh but she caught sight of the wide grin on his face, and she made to pull away from him. "See…I told you that you would think I was silly."

Harry held fast to her hand before bringing his other hand up so that he had both hands clasped around her small ones. "No I don't think it is silly." He said insistently.

"You're laughing." She mumbled self-consciously, using her other hand to wrap her cardigan protectively around herself.

"No I'm not, I'm smiling." Harry said firmly, removing one hand to grasp her other one. At her doubtful expression he continued, "I'm smiling because right now you're more beautiful than ever."

Ruth blushed even more, going beetroot, and Harry thought she looked adorable, although he could not help but feel curious about her previous past with men, regarding her confession just now, and the tearful statement she had made about ex-lovers whilst they had been arguing months ago. Sensing now was really not the time to ask, he checked the clock above kitchen cupboards and saw that it was almost seven o'clock.

"We'd better get going." Harry said heavily, inwardly concerned at Ruth suddenly tensing at his words. Regardless of what she said, he could tell that she was absolutely petrified at returning to the job that got her attacked in the first place, yet Harry was certain that he was not going to let anything like that happen to her again. "You'll be alright." He assured her.

"I…I don't think I can do this Harry." She said suddenly, eyes wide and vulnerable.

"Do you want to stay here?" he asked her hopefully, although ready to accept any decision she made at this point.

She considered this for a moment before shaking her head, somewhat uncertainly, "N…no." She then took a deep breath and said a little more confidently. "No I've got to…I can't stay here feeling sorry for myself…that's not how it works in this job is it?" Harry did not reply, and despite the uncomfortable feeling he might have told her that at some point over the years, he desperately wished it was not so. He wished she could have had a normal life where she could have been happily married with children, and no complications by now…and have the right to grieve in whatever way she chose. Of course this was not so.

"Are you sure?" he asked her firmly.

Ruth nodded which much more confidence. "Y…yes."

"Right," he said, also nodding, before ushering her through to the hall towards the coat rack, and shrugging into his own coat. "Let's go."

* * *

><p>From the moment they had entered Thames House, he had sensed Ruth's apprehension from next to him. He was heavily aware that the vast majority of workers flocking around the various corridors and departments, were male, some of them travelled in droves, dressed in black, carrying briefcases and laughing loudly with each other. As Ruth caught sight of one of these particular groups she froze entirely, noticeably gritting her teeth to stop herself from shaking and giving the game away at just how frightened she actually was. Realising that the last thing she would want at that moment would be some sort of physical contact, Harry searched for another method of reassuring her. His mind filled with relief as he spotted John Bland from Section C at the centre of the group, and called out in a bid to show Ruth that the men were not going to do her any harm. "Morning John."<p>

John looked up mid-conversation with the younger man on his left, and he smiled in recognition, if not a little in surprise, "Morning Harry," he said pleasantly, nodding politely at Ruth. "How's the Russian treaty going?"

"Appallingly," Harry responded honestly. Although he had never really taken the time to get to know men from other departments, he had always considered John Bland to be a fairly pleasant and mature fellow.

"So I've heard." John admitted smiling, before nodding that he had to re-join his colleagues who had continued up the corridor without him. "Well, good luck with it."

"Thanks." Harry said, sensing Ruth move in a more relaxed posture from her spot, and he knew he meant his gratefulness in more ways than one. He looked down at her and saw that her jaw was set firmly, as if she was purposely gritting her teeth to prevent herself from crying. At long last, the pair of them reached the entrance pods to the grid, and Harry patiently waited yet again for Ruth to prepare herself, as she took a few good, long deep breaths, and straightened her shoulders in brilliant defiance. She nodded once to Harry and they both neared the automatic doors, feeling them skim open, releasing warm, stuffy air against their faces. Harry watched her raise her gaze from the floor and stare agonisingly slowly round the grid; a building which she was so used to, but in contrast now seemed so different. He followed her gaze around the room, from her lingering look through the panels of his office, past the kitchenette and finally landing on three hard-working young operatives. Calum was sitting with his back to the pods, staring with his undivided attention at his computer, which was running some kind of recognition system, although from so far away, they could not quite tell what it was. Erin was alternating her attentions between both Calum and Dimitri, with her usually neat, immaculate hair beginning to frizz slightly in exhaustion. Dimitri looked the worst, as he was typing away feverishly on his computer, with his eyes narrowed, as though he was only just managing to keep them open. Harry noted that Ruth's gaze shifted automatically to Tariq's empty desk, and he saw her eyes widen noticeably as she took in the fact that no one had yet had the time to clear his desk. The variety of Styrofoam coffee cups were still standing resolutely in the same row that they had the night he had died, as was the newspaper which he had brought in with him that morning.

"Ruth!" a familiar voice suddenly squawked, causing Ruth to automatically jump and stare around alertly. Erin, it seemed had turned round to return to Calum's side and noticed both Ruth and Harry standing hesitantly at the edge of the grid. Upon analysing the older woman's face closely, Erin decided to ignore just how exhausted and ill she looked, and instead focused upon the joyous fact that she was still alive. Having not seen Ruth at all since her ordeal, she had not really had an idea as to the extent of the damage, yet she could now assess it quite easily from the mottled bruising on the older woman's face and neck. Slowly her eyes drifted down to Ruth's stomach, unable to help herself, since overhearing about her predicament through Harry's interrogation of Willard. She did not fail to notice that Ruth had resorted to fiddling with her hands nervously, and Erin hurriedly looked away in case her stare was making the other woman uncomfortable. She felt Dimitri shift from beside her, and Calum also turned around quickly upon hearing the name. In a bid to cover her embarrassment, she continued: "Ruth, Harry…you're back."

"Not happy to see us then?" Harry questioned, indicating with his eyes to keep the conversation light, in a bid to prevent Ruth becoming even more distressed, as at that moment, she had the distinct expression that she simply wanted a hole to open up and swallow her into the ground.

"Of course we are." Dimitri said quickly, shaking himself out of his state of shock, and sliding himself out of his chair to march across the grid towards them; Erin and Calum followed suite. Yet he could not help the images that harassed his mind as his eyes settled more closely on Ruth and the true extent of her injuries; images of her lying bleeding on the floor, of the pile of clothing lying tauntingly by the kitchen door, and Harry cradling the woman he loved whilst she tried to pull away. However, Dimitri forced on his best spook face, and tugged it into a welcoming smile: "How are…things?" he finished awkwardly. He had automatically started towards Ruth with his arms outstretched in the form of a hug, yet as if realising what he was doing, he suddenly lowered his left so that only his right was remaining. To add to the tension of the situation, he found himself wondering what to do with his available hand and he hovered somewhere between shaking her hand and clasping her shoulder, eventually giving her shoulder a brief pat. Ruth looked up at him and provided him with a brief, grateful smile, before she avoided his gaze, suddenly realising just how hard a task this was actually going to be, especially since Harry had told her Dimitri had been there when she had been found.

"Ruth," Erin said hesitantly, yet not unkindly. "We weren't expecting you back so soon. We thought you wouldn't be feeling up-"

"I'm fine Erin." The other woman cut in with as much firmness as she could muster. Only her still constantly fidgeting hands betrayed her true feelings. "Really I am. And all this," she said indicating the grid as a whole. "Doesn't stop just because I was…." She trailed off, sucking in a deep breath to calm herself at the sudden reel of images filling her mind. "I've got to come back and do my job."

Erin glanced helplessly at Harry, unable to find the words to tell Ruth to her face that she surely was not ready to return to work just yet. Despite Harry's defiant expression, she could tell his heart was not really in it, and wanted Ruth to rest and take time off work just as much as she did. For an instant she pondered just how a truly terrifying man such as Harry Pearce – a man who had killed terrorists with his bare hands – could have his heart melted by one single woman, to such an extent that he would obey almost her every command.

"Anyway," Ruth continued. "I expect there's a great mound of paperwork waiting for me on my desk is there…?" Her voice trailed off once again as her eyes rested on her own desk, which in fact, had never looked tidier. Even the stray sheets of paper that had been littered across the surface had been tidied up and carried off somewhere. Ruth turned back to face Erin who simply bit her lip nervously, "I've been getting a temporary analyst up here for a couple of hours each day to do it. I would have thought that work would be the last thing you need right now. So to make it easier I-"

"-Replaced me." Ruth finished quietly, her head craning round to look bitterly at her now tidy desk. Unable to help herself, she automatically balled her fists in anger, and had to clench her teeth tightly in her mouth to stop herself from raging out loud. Once again that helpless anger seemed to have arisen from nowhere. Regardless of the fact that she knew her colleagues were only trying to help, she could not help but feel frustrated that they simply did not understand what she needed; she needed to work…she needed to work to keep her mind off other things. If her mind was left to its own devices she knew what she would remember once again, and she had taken just about enough of it in her nightmares. If she could help it, she was not about to relive that night in her conscious thought as well.

Not only Erin's eyes had widened at Ruth's finishing statement; Dimitri and Calum were both looking completely alarmed as well, and Harry was quite clearly furious, having not been informed of this temporary change of staffing. "No…no Ruth…"Erin said quickly. "Not at all. We just got some work out of the way for you so that you would have time to rest."

"I don't know why everyone thinks I have this insatiable need to rest all day long." Ruth said quietly, yet the anger and bitterness in her voice could be easily detected. "I wasn't gravely injured, and I don't need 'recovery time'." She insisted in frustration. "All I need is for my life to get back to normal. Right now, we need to focus on catching Tariq's killer and who tried to kill Elena to stop this Russian agreement going ahead."

Despite the normal buzz of the grid, the corner in which the five colleagues stood was deadly quiet for a minute. During this time Calum's eyes whizzed nervously between the three key players in the game- Harry, Ruth and Erin. The two women looked all set to battle their argument to the end, and Dimitri stood, still awkwardly a few inches away from Ruth, his face portraying the same sadness that Harry's was. As both women's eyes locked once more, Erin sighed in defeat, and shrugged in final response. "Fine." She said reluctantly. She was about to open her mouth yet again when a plain young woman, usually seen conversing with the man Calum fondly deemed as 'the idiot who makes the tea', approached Erin tentatively and whispered something inaudibly in her ear.

Erin let out a small sad breath, somewhere between a sigh and a groan, before nodding her thanks to the young woman, and watched her walk away. After a second she let out a second sigh, and turned around to the direction of her own desk. "Great that's all we need. Apparently, the Home Secretary is most displeased with our progress on the Russian situation and is heading here of all places to give us a telling off."

"Since when did the Home Secretary of this country ever do anything personally. More to the point, since when did he ever venture out of his cosy little Whitehall Office?" Calum interjected bitterly, shoving his hands deeply into his pockets in venture of something to do with them, well aware that he was the only one who had not yet greeted Ruth.

"Since Harry told him he would do something about the hit on Elena Gavrik, and he hasn't." Erin said pointedly, not meaning to sound as vicious as she did, and softening her voice just a touch with an added apologetic expression in Harry's direction. "I'd better see what we have got for him so we don't all lose our jobs."

Upon hearing that Harry had been letting the situation slide; Ruth looked concernedly up at him, and for the first time since her attack, noticed just how tired _he_ actually looked. Having been so absorbed in the aftermath of the attack, she had not really registered the fact that he must have had very little sleep since taking her to hospital that night. In fact, she reasoned, he had probably salvaged little more sleep than she had managed, and her heart broke for him. He had been so intent on looking after her, that he had been ignoring his job, and now he was going to get a telling off from the Home Secretary. She began to panic slightly at the thought of him losing his job permanently this time, again, down to her.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry Harry." She whispered so that only he could hear. "I've been getting in the way of everything. I've been stopping you from doing your job-"

"You've done no such thing." Harry whispered back firmly. "All I've done is put my priorities in order. The right order this time."

Despite the small blush that arose in her cheeks at his words she pressed on, "But you've risked your job twice for me now Harry, they're not going to let that slide."

"They're not going to let it slide when they find out you're pregnant anyway." Harry responded, this time not noticing that Ruth winced at the matter-of-fact way in which he said the statement. She mistook his tone for bitterness and immediately began to twist her hands together anxiously. "It won't make a difference." He added.

"Di," Erin added to Dimitri, and Harry wondered just when his officer had become 'Di'. "Brief Ruth on what we've been doing."

Dimitri looked as if he would really rather not, clearly of the same impression that Ruth should still not be on the grid, yet he nodded and did his best to smile at her. "Right." He said kindly, noting that Ruth was still unable to quite meet his gaze. "We got into your desk drawer and we found the information stick - Calum's been doing his best to find out what's on it, but it's been encrypted with so many codes it's taking ages to actually break into them."

Ruth could not help but smile slightly at the fond memories of Tariq typing happily away on his computer, never quite satisfied without a puzzle, "That sounds like Tariq." She said quietly.

From next to her, Harry smiled; he too being unable to help it for her smile was positively infectious. Dimitri was also overjoyed to see her smile, even if it was only slightly, and it encouraged him to continue, "Yeah, anyway Calum's not managed to crack them yet-"

"Oi," Calum said irritably, having returned to his station, a few metres away, yet apparently his hearing was still very much up to scratch. "I'm getting there, I'm getting there."

"Ilya Gavrik has decided to hold off on the agreement for a while," Dimitri continued, completely ignoring his colleague. "Until we find out who exactly tried to kill his wife, yet the Gavriks' themselves have been remarkably unhelpful, as has Elena's bodyguard, who was with her at the time. Instead they merely complain at the lack of British security in this country-"

"Elena Gavrik complained?" Harry asked surprised, not noticing Ruth's sudden ducking of the head, in panic at the images of Harry and Elena as lovers; that even now he knew her well enough to question various aspects of her personality.

Dimitri however, remained oblivious to any of this, still as yet unaware of Harry's involvement with Elena Gavrik, and continued, "Well no, Elena didn't actually complain…but Ilya Gavrik was doing quite enough of that for the both of them." He looked at Harry. "I think maybe the Home Secretary's going to demand you talk to them…use the old Harry Pearce charm."

Although she knew well enough that Dimitri was ignorant of Harry's connection to the Gavrik's, Ruth still could not help but release a shaky breath, as once again she became a little unsure of herself, and her relationship with Harry. This time, Harry was very aware of Ruth getting upset at his side, knowing immediately what the bowed head meant. She would never publicly reveal her emotions, and so kept her head down to conceal her face. In order to assure her, Harry tentatively placed a reassuring arm around her back and said enigmatically: "Oh I don't know Dimitri, I think you'll find the Gavrik's are well used to my charm by now. I don't want to use it, and they won't waste any time in avoiding it."

This last statement only made sense to Ruth, who stilled her fidgeting hands slightly, indicating what those words meant to her and that she was somewhat calming down. Dimitri however looked completely lost. "What?"

"He and I were Cold War adversaries," Harry said coolly, and not entirely truthfully justifying his previous statement. "He would know the Harry Pearce persuasion techniques like the back of his hand by now."

Just as Harry finished his sentence, the ringing of a phone sounded from nearby, and Calum picked it up deftly, juggling it with his left hand whilst typing furiously with his right. He nodded in response to whoever the caller was, despite the fact that the person on the other end of the line would not be able to see this action, and muttered a few inaudible comments before depositing the phone back into its cradle.

"Oi Harry! Dimitri!" he called, only bothering to look at them for a few seconds, before wheeling around in his chair to return to his work. "They want you both down in the cells pronto. They've been doing facial recog with our systems, think they've found something. They think Willard might be ready to squeak."

At the mere mention of Willard, Ruth tensed suddenly and noticeably and both Harry and Dimitri stared at her anxiously. It was a point neither Harry nor Ruth had contemplated – that Willard would be in the same building as her. Harry tried to contemplate just how frightening the thought must be to Ruth, that just a few floors down, one of her rapists was sitting unfortunately alive and well. He moved his hand to her back gently, and despite Ruth's sudden paleness she did not pull away. The level of her whiteness was so intense, he feared she was about to be sick all over again, but he felt incredibly proud of her when she shook her head slightly, as in silent promise to herself not to get worked up, and she took two very large deep breaths to calm herself.

On the other hand, Harry felt inexplicable anger at Calum for being so callous and tactless – never mind downright rude, and he shot a sharp glare at Calum's back. He would deal with the younger officer later, whilst Ruth was not around to see him lose his temper. At the moment, he needed her to trust him, and he was never going to achieve that if she was constantly fearful of him losing his temper with her. He looked back down at the precious woman beside him, and smiled gently at her as she continued to take deep soothing breaths. Although he had vowed he was not going to leave her side that day, he really had no choice, for not even the lord himself could persuade him to take Ruth anywhere near that bastard, and Harry himself, desperately wanted to find out what Willard was at last willing to reveal. As he stared at her, he could not help but feel a little over-protective, as a mother hen might act with her chicks, yet, Harry considered with a brief smile, his feelings for her were anything but motherly – or even fatherly. Yet, with the nature of her attack, the fact that both he and Dimitri were needed elsewhere, Erin was trying to negotiate on the phone to the Towers' secretary, and Calum had the emotional tact of a bean, he felt reluctant to leave her on her own here. His eyes strayed automatically to Tariq's death before shooting back almost immediately, realising his mistake. Yet, had the boy still been alive, he knew Ruth would have been safe in his hands. He was stuck, somewhat reluctantly, with Calum.

"I'm going to have to go down and…" Harry said quietly to Ruth, who looked as if she really wished he would not, but she attempted a firm nod anyway.

"Of course." She replied in what sounded like a rather forced rendition of her usual clipped, business-like tone.

"Are you sure you'll be alrig-" he asked, although he knew the answer before he had even finished the question. Ruth, naturally, interrupted impatiently.

"I'll be fine Harry." She said quickly. "For God's sake, I'm not a child."

Knowing she was only putting on a brave face to accompany her usual work tone, Harry smiled and nodded, though inwardly, he could not help but feel a little hurt at her abruptness; he had only had her best interests at heart. Now, Ruth bowed her head in apology for her clipped tone, but said nothing. Instead she wordlessly made her way over to her desk towards the other end of the room, and Harry watched her sadly as she hovered around her station for a moment, as if she was trying to take her return to the grid in properly after everything that had happened.

Sucking his teeth slightly, Harry approached Calum and slammed a hand down on his shoulder with more ferocity then he might have done before the young officer had made his tactless comment. Calum almost jumped out of his skin and turned to face his boss with an obvious look of shock upon his usually smug face.

"Dimitri and I are going to talk to Willard." Harry said in a low voice so that only he and Calum could hear it. "You are going to watch over Ruth whilst we are gone, and call us if there are any problems. Secondly," Harry began, his lip curling slightly to show his indignation. "I know I'm not exactly held in high regards at the moment by either my colleagues or the tribunal, but I am still your boss, and not your drinking buddy – thus you do not address me with 'oi'," Calum gulped slightly and stared into Harry's glaring hazel eyes. "And finally, learnt to gather a little more tact. You do not shout at the top of your voice that one of Ruth's rapists is down in the cells, so that not only she can hear, but the entire Grid as a whole; thus causing even more embarrassment to a woman who needs no more."

Calum gulped once more before nodding slowly, clearly intimidated by the close proximity of the other man. Gradually, Harry nodded in reply and removed his hand from Calum's shoulder, and provided him with a meaningful look before he stood up fully and walked of in the opposite direction towards Dimitri. With a final worried glance at Ruth, he sighed and indicated to Dimitri to follow him through the pods towards the cells below. Calum looked up from his computer, Harry's words still reverberating around his head, and he watched Ruth for a split second. Although she had now seated herself successfully at her desk, her eyes were wide and staring hauntingly before her, almost as if she was in some form of trance or meditation. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, her knuckles white, and for the first time since he heard about Ruth's attack, Calum felt genuinely terrified and saddened for her.

**Again, this chapter was longer than I intended it to be - hence the lack of appearance of the Home Secretary, however I absolutely promise that the next chapter shall contain more plot and particularly, the revelation of Ruth's little bundle of joy, and the arrival of Towers. In preparation for a few chapters time, I would like to ask you guys if you think the gender of the baby should be a boy or girl, because I'm not sure. I'm leaning towards one particular gender, but I want to see if you agree. In my absence I've been planning this story fully, so I not know exactly what is going to happen, so you're hopefully going to get quicker updates. Please review - they would make a wonderful christmas present xxx**


	22. Chapter 22

**Okay...as promised, the next chapter. As usual, it got a little longer than I intended so I had to cut it off there, but I PROMISE the revelation will come next chapter for definite. I really hope you like this anyway, and I hope that in the free moments I have in my busy schedule over the next few days I can have that chapter coming up for you soon. Thank you to all you loyal reviewers - your reviews always make me smile and eager to start the next chapter. Again, if it's not too much trouble please review xxx**

Harry strode purposefully down the lower-level corridor, well aware that he was only a few rooms away from one of Ruth's attackers. The fact that she was in the building made his dilemma all the more worse, and although he was not sure if it was possible, he felt more loathing for Willard than he had done during the previous interrogation. This and the fact that Ruth had just snapped at him had created an extremely dark mood within his mind, and perhaps this was physically noticeable in his expression and body language, for Dimitri, who was following in his wake, kept shifting his eyes to look nervously at him.

"You have something to say?" Harry growled, unable to take the anxious looks any longer, and despite Dimitri's support over the last couple of weeks, he found himself unable to snap out of his foul mood.

The younger officer winced slightly at Harry's sharp tone, and clenched his jaw slightly, as if considering whether or not to actually admit what was on his mind and risk the wrath of Harry's temper. Yet the thought of Ruth's struggle forced him on, and after half a minute Dimitri sighed and said quietly:

"Why has Ruth come back to work?"

Although inwardly Harry was demanding answer to his very same question, his pride, and his loyalty to Ruth, would not let him show it. Instead he ignored his instincts and replied almost mechanically, "In case you haven't noticed, she works here. Therefore she has come back to work."

Dimitri released an even deeper sound, not fooled by Harry's argument, and apparently not in the mood for being mocked. "I'm serious." He murmured, not caring if he sounded disrespectful. "Only a few days ago she was in hospital…before that she had…God knows what done to her…" Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Dimitri persevered onwards with his speech. "And before you say anything…I know you're thinking the same thing as well." He provided yet another sigh to accompany his argument. "Look, I know Ruth's always been stubborn and…though she would never admit it, she has almost as much pride as you do…so she won't admit even to herself how…awful she's feeling. But she really needs to go home and try and-"

Harry suddenly stopped in his stride and whirled around to face his younger officer, a considerably cold look in his recently soft hazel eyes, "I didn't know you were into amateur psychology Dimitri." He said sarcastically, with as much warmth in his voice as his eyes were containing. Dimitri released a breath as he realised his words had had virtually no effect on his boss, and he hung his head. "I've just had to tell Calum off for insubordination, don't make me start on you as well…I can tell very well for myself what is best for my officers and what isn't…I've been doing it since you were in nappies."

"Yeah," Dimitri replied quietly, looking defiantly up at his boss, and wondering if he was going to regret this later on. "But Ruth's not just another one of your officers, and you can't exactly play the high and mighty card considering what you've put her through recently."

As soon as the sentence left his lip, Dimitri knew that he was not going to get off lightly with it. Harry now looked as if he was only just refraining himself from punching his younger officer, and his hand twitched noticeably almost as if he was having to force it down. Instead, Harry ignored the comment with reluctance and glowered at the other man. He jabbed his thumb towards a door just in front of them, and Dimitri suddenly realised they were just outside their destination. "In." Harry snapped coldly at him.

Not prepared to argue any further, Dimitri sighed, turned the door handle, and stepped inside, Harry following close behind him.

* * *

><p>Ruth sorted through the abridged pile of files that had been left on her desk, opening each one, and reading the first page. Yet with each one, she was gradually becoming more and more distressed, for although her eyes were following the words, her mind was not trained in gear to take in a single molecule of information, and she tried to strain her eyes to such an extent that the words became blurry and disfigured. She sucked in a shaky breath and cradled her tired head in her hands in a bid to chase away the wave of tears that were threatening the spill. Her pride would not allow her to admit that this had perhaps been a bad idea, for, although she knew the grid was a place she had worked and been comfortable with for years, every time a person sidled past her desk, she would jump and stare up in alarm, and her stomach was tightening itself into a deeper knot with each minute. She had wanted desperately to prove to Harry that she was not weak, and that despite the attack, nothing had changed. Yet with each word on the page beginning with the letter 'r', she saw the word 'rape', with each word beginning with 'b' she saw 'blood', and with each word beginning with 'w' she saw the name 'Willard' and fear clutched at her heart at the thought of that man being just a few floors below her.<p>

Allowing herself a few more deep breaths, Ruth decided to take a break and sit there quietly. As she did so, surveying the grid with wider eyes than she would have hoped, she watched the young woman who had directed Erin to the phone earlier, now direct a tall, burly, middle-aged man towards Tariq's desk. As he made his way over, the man's eyes connected with Ruth's slightly and she closed them quickly and fearfully. A moment later, when she opened them she saw that he had looked away and she surveyed him carefully, ignoring the fear in the pit of her stomach. The man looked as if he was a rather lower-level officer, dressed only in a jumper and smart trousers, and he was carrying a large red box. Ruth knew where this was going before she even saw him drop the box onto the desk. The task of clearing out a fallen one's desk was always a major ritual for those who had known them, and Ruth felt justifiable anger boil up inside her as she watched this stranger, who had not even known Tariq pick up the delicately arranged Styrofoam cups and toss them inside a bin bag which he had unfolded. She stiffened and gritted her teeth in fury as she watched the older man pick up the pot of pens which Tariq had always arranged so neatly at the corner of his desk, and toss them carelessly into the box.

Without being entirely aware of what she was doing, Ruth felt her hands reaching for the edge of her desk and hauling her to her feet. Still on autopilot, she navigated her way towards Tariq's desk, now too angry to pay attention to the knot of fear in her stomach, and she furiously approached the burly older man. Completely unaware of this, the stranger picked up a photo frame containing Tariq and his family, and tossed it dispassionately into the box. The sound of breaking glass as the frame smashed at the bottom of the box was enough to fully ignite Ruth's fury, and unable to bear watching Tariq's precious items being mistreated any further, she stormed towards the man and snatched the box quickly from his hands. He looked around in shock and stared down into the cold, furious eyes of Ruth Evershed.

"How dare you!" she cried uncontrollably, glaring at the man before her. Her outburst attracted he attentions of many people on the grid, and they all turned round to stare at the commotion. Calum's head whizzed up from his computer screen and upon seeing the scene a few metres away from him, he swore loudly. "How dare you!" she continued, not caring that uncontrollable tears were leaking untouched from the corners of her eyes. "How dare you treat him with such disrespect?"

The older, burly man stared around nervously at all the eyes that were now fixed on them, and then he stared back at the furious woman. She was indeed now so angry, that she was shaking all over and the red box that she was clutching tightly seemed all set to fall to the ground at any second. "Look love," he said uneasily. "I'm just doing my job alright. I was told I had to clear out this bloke's desk and-"

"He's not some bloke!" Ruth yelled painfully, spurring Calum into action, and he stood up and attempted to make his way over to her, even though everyone else on the grid had gone agonisingly still and silent. "His name was Tariq Masood, and he was a hero!"

"Look-" the man continued uncomfortably.

"And you're not clearing out his desk because he's done something wrong," Ruth persevered, becoming increasingly distressed by the second. "You're removing his things because he was killed! Murdered!" Calum continued to make his way over to his distraught colleague, whilst she screamed. "And he saved the lives of God knows how many people…and you're treating him like he's some piece of dirt! You're carelessly tossing the remainders of his life into a box which no one's ever going to see again! Learn a little more respect because Tariq deserved far more than people ever gave him-"

She was crying now, attracting shocked looks and private whispers from the crowd around the grid; the older man looked scared out of his wits, and Calum made to touch Ruth's arm gently but the contact distressed her even more. "Get away from me!" she cried desperately. Calum snatched his hand away as if he had been scolded by a scorching hot pan, and he looked around desperately for any sign of Erin.

"He's been gone for just over a week and you're already erasing him from people's memories!" she sobbed. She tugged out the now broken photo frame and showed it to the bewildered officer. "His brother, his cousin and his father." She declared at the photograph. "That's his family. His mother died of cancer when he was fourteen but you didn't know that did you? In this job, NO ONE BLOODY CARES!" she screamed the last part to the grid at large, shaking the very bones of each individual.

Apparently very much aware that Erin was no coming back any time soon, Calum shuffled uncomfortably on the balls on his feet before saying quietly, "Come on Ruth."

Much to the embarrassment of both Calum and the older man, Ruth descended into tears as she stared down at the photograph of Tariq with his family. Calum wished desperately to be anywhere but on the grid at that moment and he surveyed Ruth awkwardly for a few more seconds before muttering to the burly man, "Just go." The stranger did just that and he gladly hurried over to the pods and disappeared through them back to whatever section he was originally from. Calum glanced round at the silent grid and yelled, "Well don't just stand there, get on with whatever you're supposed to do all day!"

Almost as if the scene was controlled by a mute button, sound suddenly filled the room again, the odd hushed whisper about Ruth's outburst flitting around, but Calum steadfastly ignored them. He turned back around and stared uncomfortably at the sobbing Ruth, surprised at just how outwardly calm he actually was, considering his inward tempo was as high as it could possibly be; his heart was thumping in shock at seeing a colleague who he had generally respected as quiet and calm, suddenly lash out for no accountable reason. After a few seconds of more fidgeting on his part, he reached forwards and gently took hold of the box in her arms and tugged lightly on it to indicate that he was going to remove it from her grasp. Her eyes, which had been squeezed tight shut in a bid to block out the pain, flitted briefly up at him, and once she was satisfied that the box was in the hands of someone reasonably trustworthy she relinquished her grip. Breathing an inaudible sigh of relief, Calum lifted the box out of her arms and placed it carefully on to Tariq's desk, making a mental note to get Erin to find someone more responsible to deal with Tariq's things later on.

He turned his attentions back to his older colleague who seemed to have stopped sobbing uncontrollably, but still had tears continuously flooding down her cheeks as she stared the picture frame which was still clutched tightly in her hands. Hoping that she may now calm her erratic behaviour to some sort of level which he could deal with, Calum reached for the picture frame this time, yet as his fingers touched the cold metal frame, he realised that Ruth was not going to let go in a hurry.  
>"Erm…Ruth I'm going to…well…I've got to put this with the re-"<p>

"I want to see Harry." She muttered quietly, her voice containing a hard, forceful edge which he had never heard before. She sounded as if she had a very bad head cold due to her previous sobbing outburst, but he remembered what Harry had mentioned about tact and he decided it might be wise not to mention this.

It took Calum a moment to register what she had just said, for her words were almost inaudible, yet as his brain processed the information he frowned immediately, remembering just who Harry was with downstairs. Not only this but his heart lurched for her, genuinely terrified at just how dependent she seemed to have become on his boss, especially as he considered a woman who, just two weeks ago, would have insisted on standing on her own two feet, no matter what.

"Erm…well…I'm not sure if that's possible-" Calum said, wishing with all his heart that Erin would hurry up and take control of the situation.

"I need to speak to Harry." She repeated, sounding just as weak and lifeless as she had done the previous time, doubling the uncomfortable feeling within Calum. He was a desk officer, no more than a technician – it was not his job to deal with things like this, and he certainly had not signed up for this. He knew now what Erin had been trying to communicate to Ruth, about her not being fit to work just yet, was absolutely true; yet he had no hope of indicating this to an emotional rape victim. He cursed himself as he considered these thoughts, realising just how cold he sounded, yet truthfully, he had absolutely no idea how to handle the situation. Ordinarily he would choose a statement that would lighten the considerably darkened mood, yet his instincts told him this was not a good idea.

"Maybe…maybe we should wait for Erin to get back-" Calum said awkwardly, rocking backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet. His hand once again clamped around the photo frame in a bid to place it with the rest of Tariq's possessions yet she still had a firm hold.

"I need to see Harry." Ruth said again, sounding more a more desperate by the second, and as if a fresh wave of tears were fast approaching.

Calum sighed, and keeping his eyes trained on Ruth, he strode over to his desk and picked up the phone, with the intention of calling down to get Harry back onto the grid, without the need of taking Ruth to see him. For all that Ruth seemed able to agree to was seeing Harry; she looked so lost and childlike that it was extremely frightening. He swore loudly as the phone rang at least twenty times, indicating that whoever was at the desk downstairs was not picking up. He cursed that things would have been so much easier if Erin were here, for she knew Harry's mobile number, and he being a mere technician so to speak, did not. He very much doubted that he would be able to coax the number out of Ruth, and he slammed the unhelpful phone back down into its cradle.

"Look Ruth…" he said awkwardly, now very aware that her eyes were open, and staring desperately at him. "He's downstairs with…with Willard." He said, careful not to announce his name to the grid at large this time.

Ruth noticeably paled, and her fingers began to shake fractionally so that Calum was left wondering whether she might drop the picture frame. Yet as he stared into her eyes, he saw a familiar determination spark within them, not dissimilar to the one he was normally used to, and the one he had experienced when Erin had had a go at her for going off to the loos without permission.

"I…I don't care." Ruth managed, still hoarse and quiet, but determined. "I need to see Harry…and…and I want to see Willard."

Calum stood staring in shock for a moment, knowing his life would not be worth living if he let Ruth within ten feet of that man; Harry would have his guts for garters, and he would be out of a job before he could even explain his reasoning.

"No." Calum said firmly. "No…Harry would have my head if I…no it's not a good idea…"

"I need to see him…both of them." She said.

Things were going from bad to worse – one minute she wanted to see just Harry, which, Calum reasoned was fair enough considering all they had been through together, yet now she was determined to see Willard.

"Ruth I-"

At last she relinquished her grip on the photo frame and placed it gently inside the box on Tariq's desk. Then without another word to Calum, and with an expression almost as if she was in a trance, she shifted past him and headed towards the pods. Calum swore very loudly this time, causing more heads to turn then he would have liked but this time he ignored them and jogged to catch his older colleague up.

"Where are you going?" Though this was completely pointless for he already knew the answer.

Ruth did not reply, and Calum knew better than to touch her this time. Instead, he debated the risks of letting her go down to the cells alone, or accompanying her. Either way, his head would roll for letting her get her own way, but in the circumstances; Calum could see no other way out.

* * *

><p>David Taylor stood to address Harry and Dimitri as they entered the room. Although he was under Harry Pearce, he was not nearly so highly regarded as team members such as Dimitri Levendis and Erin Watts, and he felt a great deal of respect for all of them. He had been honoured when he had been assigned the task of interrogating Willard some more whilst they had all been somewhat indisposed. He had after all heard through the grapevine of Ruth Evershed's rape by this bastard, and he was only too keen to try and crack his head open some more, especially since he had spoken to the woman several times in the past and found her incredibly kind and likeable, though, if not a little unhappy.<p>

"Sir." He said briefly, nodding at the two entrants, whilst Harry's eyes drifted coldly to Willard who was sitting, what he considered to be, somewhat obnoxiously. Harry had the distinct feeling that the progress with Willard was going downhill, especially with his knowledge that the CIA was constantly bullying MI5 for the release of their man. In Harry's view, considering what Willard had done, his treatment by the security services was incredibly gentle and light – if Harry had it his way, he would be face-down in the Thames before now.

"Thank you for that Mr Taylor." Harry said nodding his gratitude, although his expression was positively fierce following his argument with Dimitri, and the fact that Willard was looking decidedly confident.

Taylor nodded courteously once more, before taking it as his cue for the leaving the room, secretly feeling quite relieved to separate himself from the American slimeball. Harry waited for a few seconds until Taylor left the room before gritting his teeth and sitting down opposite Willard, fists balled underneath the table in fury; even now he could picture the bastard causing Ruth enough agony to leave her bleeding and in the state she was when he had found her. Dimitri hesitated before daring to take a seat next to him, automatically sensing Harry's anger.

The tension and dark mood in the room was palpable as Harry and Willard eyeballed each other for a few moments. Unable to take it any longer, Dimitri spoke aloud:

"Well Mr Willard?" he asked, completely through with the niceties and desperate to discover the identity of Ruth's attackers, and ultimately, Tariq's killers. "What was it you so desperately needed to see us for?"

Willard's mouth may well have been glued shut for he said absolutely nothing in response to this question. He did not even raise enough effort to withdraw his eyes away from Harry to stare at Dimitri in common courtesy; instead his eyes remained motionless and fixed on Harry's. Not in the slightest bit intimidated by Willard's newfound confidence, although incredibly annoyed, Harry growled: "Remember what I said about your family Mr Willard? Remember what I said about _fixing _them?"

Dimitri, who had known this to be one of Harry's simple interrogation techniques, shivered himself, but was disturbed to see that it had extra no effect on Willard. The American remained impassive and undisturbed by this prompt. Instead he shrugged and said confidently:

"You can't hurt them. The CIA isn't stupid. As soon as they realised that I'd been captured they were removed to a safe house." He seemed to smile a little, although it was anything but humorous and there was no twinkle in his eyes of pure happiness. It was dark and thoroughly unpleasant. He nodded his head towards the door through which Taylor had disappeared only minutes beforehand. "Your junior officer tried to spin me some yarn about my family being held hostage by your lot, but I know they're safe and sound. You can't touch them."

"How do you know they're safe and sound?" Dimitri demanded, not even stopping to think. Harry closed his eyes briefly as his younger officer eradicated any hope of fooling Willard into a story about his family being held by MI5 instead. Willard seemed to have sensed Dimitri's distress as well, for he smiled knowingly, and Harry felt loathing and hatred boiling in the pit of his stomach.

"I have my sources." Willard said, infuriatingly enigmatically.

"Well so do we," Harry said, equally as confidently, although inside the anger was bubbling at full throttle. "And if we want to, we can quite easily find a CIA safe house, and break its security with absolutely no trouble at all."

"I don't believe you." Willard said strongly, although his expression betrayed something entirely different, and for the first time since they had entered the room, he looked slightly perturbed.

"I wonder," said Harry, forcing all of his fury down, to implant a false front of calmness as he pondered the question. "I wonder if the person who immediately put the CIA on alert was Jim Coaver. He is after all, your boss, and it would be only natural for him to do so – yet from what you've told us he would also be doing this to save his own skin."

"Well you'd have to ask him that." Willard said, although the look on his face betrayed the fact that Harry was indeed correct.

"All in good time," Harry said, mirroring Willard's enigmatic technique, which seemed to aggravate the younger man even further. "But first, we've been told you pointed some things out on facial recog. How many of your fellow rapists did you identify?"

Harry could not help but emphasise the word rapists, and felt a surge of dark pleasure from the fact that Willard flinched slightly at his venomous approach.

"First I want guarantees that you'll let me go. I want evidence and written statements saying that you'll leave me and my family alone in the future-"

Without warning Harry suddenly launched himself up out of his seat and seized the American by a tuft of his hair and slammed his head down onto the desk, not dissimilar to the previous interrogation. Now seething with uncontrollable anger, Harry broke his false calmness and felt sincere relief at being allowed to express his true feelings; it felt good to have one of the men who attacked Ruth under his fingers, and so close to the throat that, should he desire, he could arrange Willard's painful death.

"You," he growled, ignoring Dimitri's weak protests in the background. "are in no position to bargain." He bent down so that his nose was virtually inches away from Willard's and he slammed the other man's head against the table once more. "How's the nose since our last little chat eh Mr Willard? Is it healing, because if it is, what a shame that I am now going to have to repeat the damage, this time making it far worse."

"Stop!" Willard said thickly, apparently his nose having served yet another beating.

"Why?" Harry demanded, his hand moving down the other man's body so that it came into contact with his throat. "Why should I? Isn't that more or less what you are your little friends threatened to do to Ruth Evershed? Repeat the process and cause double the amount of pain?"

"I don't care what you do to me." Willard said weakly, so that it was immediately obvious that he did care.

"Don't worry," Harry snarled, applying the slightest amount of pressure to the man's neck. "My intention isn't to kill you yet." Willard released a very noticeable sigh of release, with his shoulders sagging despite his pain. "Your family on the other hand…"

Willard froze.

* * *

><p>Calum marched nervously down the corridor, alongside a scarily determined Ruth, especially regarding the state she had been in only a few minute prior. He had to admit that it was a fairly new experience for him, for although he knew where the cells were, he had never had any cause to visit them due to him being a mere desk officer. He was surprised, for such a highly important organisation as MI5, that there were very few people that passed them on the way down, and as they walked down the corridor, it was entirely empty, save for a young man, who looked only a few years his junior. He was sitting on a hard plastic chair, just outside the cell entrance, with one leg crossed over the other whilst reading a copy of the Guardian. As he heard the footsteps approach, the young man's head shot up and he quickly dropped his newspaper to the ground and stood to greet them. Upon seeing it was a man and Ruth Evershed, the woman whose rape had, only half an hour ago, been the subject of his interrogation of Joseph Willard, his eyebrows arched in surprise.<p>

"Ms Evershed…" Taylor said, at a loss as to what to say, especially since it had not been mentioned to him that she was visiting the cells. What was more disturbing was the look on the older woman's face, which was a combination of pure fear, and attempted determination, although with deeper consideration, he did not know whether this was possible. "I…er…no one mentioned to me that you were going to be-"

"That's because she isn't supposed to be here." Calum offered, hoping against hope that Ruth would take his words in to consideration, but to no avail, for she merely said hoarsely:

"I have to see Harry Pearce."

Unsure as to whether or not this poor woman's judgement could be trusted at the present time, he turned to look at Calum for some form of explanation. However Calum could think of no other option and hoped that maybe Harry could make her see reason, so he merely shrugged in response. Taylor looked back to Ruth uncertainly and could see by the way in which she refused to meet his eyes that she was unduly terrified of both him, and what she was about to do. After another moment of silent awkwardness, Taylor relented, and praying that he was doing the right thing, he sighed and nodded, opening the door to the cell.

Both Ruth and Calum stepped automatically through the door, and stopped just inside the cell viewing booth. The dark glass thankfully provided a much needed barrier between the two rooms, allowing Ruth to spot for the first time, one of her attackers, without him actually being able to see her. She swallowed as she took in his age – he would only be few years younger than herself, and his hair was a light sandy colour, whilst his face looked as if he was extremely well-practised at winning over the ladies. Yet instead of the fear and anger she had expected to feel upon seeing Willard, she felt panic ebbing through her from another person in the room.

"First I want guarantees that you'll let me go. I want evidence and written statements saying that you'll leave me and my family alone in the future-" Willard was saying, an unmistakable note of terror in his voice.

Ruth jumped visibly, and cried out in alarm as in complete contrast to the man who had held her tenderly in his arms just that morning, Harry suddenly launched himself from his seat and seized Willard painfully by a tuft of his hair and slammed his head viciously down onto the desk in front of him.

"You," he growled, whilst Dimitri reached a hand to his shoulder in a meek attempt at placating him. "are in no position to bargain." Ruth felt as if her heart had splintered in two as she watched a man who had behaved so gently towards her, bend down so that his nose was virtually inches away from Willard's and he slammed the other man's head against the table yet again. She could feel the vibrations shatter through the screen and send shivers through the floorboards. Truly terrified, her whole body began to shake uncontrollably as it began to dawn on her just what type of man Harry was; what type of father she had for her child. "How's the nose since our last little chat eh Mr Willard?" he was saying brutally, almost in a nasty sneer, and Ruth could feel the tears coming on yet again. "Is it healing, because if it is, what a shame that I am now going to have to repeat the damage, this time making it far worse."

Ruth closed her eyes tightly against the venom of his words, and the heat of her tears; all trust for the man she had loved for so long was slowly slipping away in a matter of minutes. She recognised the significance of the words and realised they were more or less exactly the same as the ones Willard and the rest of the attackers had used after they had…

"Stop!" Willard said thickly, apparently his nose having served yet another beating.

"Why?" Harry was demanding, his hand moving down the other man's body so that it came into contact with his throat. "Why should I? Isn't that more or less what you are your little friends threatened to do to Ruth Evershed? Repeat the process and cause double the amount of pain?"

Although somewhere in the back of her mind, Ruth registered that in his own way, Harry was trying to protect her, she forced it back due to the horror at Harry's roughness. She saw in vivid detail the way his hand was squeezing the other man's throat painfully. Images of how gentle he had been during their coupling that wonderful night flooded through her mind, accompanied by the ones presented before her. She tried unsuccessfully to block out the reels of memories of her attack; how rough they had been. Although she could tell from Willard's voice that he was not the dominant one of the group, for the tone was completely wrong, she pictured him as the one straddling her, punching her in the face and breasts; being the first one the ram himself in.

"I don't care what you do to me." Willard was whimpering weakly.

"Don't worry," Harry snarled, now noticeably squeezing the American's neck painfully, so that he was gasping for air. "My intention isn't to kill you yet." Willard released a very noticeable sigh of release, with his shoulders sagging despite his pain. "Your family on the other hand…"

Willard froze, but the word 'family' snapped through every nerve in Ruth's body; the threat against the family. Willard had a family – he was a family man, a father and he had still felt the need to…do what he did that painful night. She looked between him and Harry, a man she had considered to be good and kind, regardless of his faults, and she now knew that he was no better than the other. He was a father of, Ruth realised, who knows how many children, and yet he was causing pain and agony to another human being, just as that man had to her that night. Sudden horrific images of Harry strangling her, then him punching her, followed by him punching a mysterious, faceless child. Then they came. Red, hot, terrifying images of Harry being the one of straddle her, Harry being the one to drag down his pants and ram himself inside her…Harry being the one to cause so much pain.

"No!" she suddenly heard herself cry full throttle. She was vaguely aware of tears streaming uncontrollably down her cheeks once again, and of her hands clasping tightly and protectively against her stomach. She clenched her teeth as a sudden sharp, agonising pain shot through her chest and stomach, causing her to double over.

Calum who had been watching the scene in the room with worry, suddenly came back to his senses as Ruth screamed "No!" and he turned to see her doubling over, with yet more tears flowing desperately. He saw with fright that she was possibly even more distressed than she had been on the grid, and she was clutching madly at her stomach, releasing huge painful sobs and had her eyes tight shut against the world.

"Ruth!" he said sharply, only just managing to step forward and catch her distressed form as she collapsed helplessly to the floor, shaking. Panicking, Calum checked for any signs to outward injury, coming to the conclusion that again, she was suffering inwardly. He watched her shake violently, all the while clutching desperately at her stomach, and he did the best to coax out of her what the matter was. He did not get answer. He was dimly aware through her wracking sobs that more shouting and slamming was taking place, and threats about family were being used all over the place by Harry. His voice triggered something in him, and in his panicked state, Calum decided the only solution to helping Ruth was to fetch Harry himself.

He propped Ruth against the wall, and was just about to get to his feet, when she let out a noticeable cry of pain, still clutching her stomach with one hand, and this time, her chest with the other. Shaking himself by this point, Calum shot to his feet and hastily opened the cell door.

* * *

><p>"I want to speak to Harry now." The Home Secretary growled in a voice that warned against any sort of argument, as soon as he stepped foot through the entrance of Thames House, and met the patiently waiting Erin.<p>

Fully aware that her boss was at the present, somewhat detained, Erin held out her arms for Tower's coat which he handed her in expectation, and said, "He's interrogating a suspect in the cells at the moment. How about we…" she said indicating the general vicinity of upstairs, intending to ploy him with a drink of whiskey from Harry's office.

"A suspect?" Towers said sharply, glaring with those no nonsense owl eyes at her. "You mean Joseph Willard?" Erin tried her best not to look abashed. "An officer of the CIA which you took without authorisation, and thus I have been receiving a general bollocking? That's the other reason why I am here. I am to warn you, without any arguments, against keeping Willard here any longer. We're already having trouble from the Russians, the last things we need is the American's throwing a paddy as well. And believe me, the CIA will play the general public sympathy card. He has a family who want him back…he even has a five year old daughter for God's sake."

"Sir," Erin said, trying desperately not to show how nervous he was making her. "We have undeniable evidence that he was one of the men who raped Ruth Evershed."

Towers did not look pleased with this counter argument, and he squared her up angrily, "You are MI5…you deal with terrorists and any threats to this country. As much as the case is sad, the rape of one woman is not a threat to this country, and you have no proof that Joseph Willard is a terrorist – thus you have no grounds to detain him."

"He raped one of our own." Erin argued frowning. "We also suspect that he may have been connected somehow to the murder of another one of our own, Tariq Masood."

"Any proof of that?" the Home Secretary demanded, folding his arms across his chest.

Erin gritted her teeth, and the feeling of losing came to the forefront of her mind again – she had always hated losing. "No." she muttered.

"Well then-"

"We got out of him that he was working for a person higher up in the CIA," Erin blurted out, suddenly gleeful of one piece of evidence she had not bargained with. "James Coaver."

Erin knew within seconds that even this had not shifted Towers' argument one little bit, and he looked just as unimpressed as before, "Young lady, it is a very serious allegation accusing a CIA boss of authorising the attack of MI5 officers."

"We think Coaver may have been behind the attacks on Elena Gavrik."

Towers' stared at her for a moment, extremely surprised before his arched eyebrows knitted back into place and he sighed, "I want to see Harry now. This minute."

"Sir, he's in the c-"

"Then take me there." Towers' growled in no mood to be argued with. "I need to speak with Harry Pearce right this minute."

**Aaahhh...I think you can tell what's going to happen next...but it doesn't end there ;) Anyway, many thanks for your voting on boy or girl for Harry andd Ruth's baby. At the moment the majority seem to be opting for a girl, but I haven't decided yet, so if anyone else wants it to be a boy don't hesitate to say so. As for names, Mtn Cousin, if it was a boy, I really liked the idea of Tariq as a middle name so thank you very much. If anyone else has any ideas for names I would be very grateful :) Next chapter the Home Secretary finds out, we find out wht is to be Harry and Ruth's fate and will they keep their jobs, can Ruth trust Harry and what stance is the inquiry going to take on Harry's one night with Ruth? Find out next chapter...but please review xxxx MERRY CHRISTMAS ! :)**


	23. Chapter 23

**I'm actually surprised at how this just flowed onto the paper, but maybe it's just because I've been planning it for a while. Anyways...wow...fourteen reviews...thank you so much to all of you, and thank you also for your suggestions for baby names. It's a close call now between boy or girl- quite a few of you seemed to like Emma Rose or Anne for a girl, and Adam or Danny (Daniel) or Ben (Benjamin)for a boy. I know this chapter is shorter than the other one but it's just so that everything fits into the time frames. I hope you're still enjoyin it anyway and I'm sorry for it being so angsty but it gets better, I promise. Please read and review xxx**

Harry spun around, lightening his grip on Willard ever so slightly in the process, and stared at Calum confusedly as his younger officer careered through the door. He was still breathing heavily through hiss fury, and it took a few moments for his mind to process Calum's entrance. Dimitri looked equally baffled, and Willard took the opportunity to try and relinquish Harry's grip on his neck, reaching up one hand to push the older man's larger on away. Harry was just about to turn back and replace it with a harder grip when Calum finally spoke up:

"Harry, quickly! It's Ruth."

For Harry, those last two words were all that were required as he felt his blood run cold at the very thought of something being wrong with that dear woman. At once he released Willard's throat and headed towards Calum, who was still stood panicking in the doorway. All sorts of images began to flood through his mind – had there been physical consequences to the rape after all, was she in pain, was something wrong with the baby? He registered the fact that it was Calum who had run to tell him and he growled:

"Where is she? I thought I told you to stick like glue to her."

"I…I did." Calum managed to gasp out, despite his panic. He nodded his head to the older man to indicate that he should follow him back through to the cell viewing booth, and Harry automatically fell into step behind him. "Something happened upstairs…all of a sudden she started screaming at some poor bloke trying to clear out Tariq's desk…and then she demanded to see you and Willard and she came down here…I couldn't stop her-"

As Harry closed the door shut behind him, leaving Willard and Dimitri inside the cell, he suddenly heard those familiar heart-rending sobs, and coupled with Calum's revelation about her seeing Willard, and also, he interrogating Willard, a terrible idea of what might be wrong with her occurred to him. He swore loudly as he caught sight of Ruth huddled against the inside wall, knees pressed protectively against herself, and with her arms clutching madly at her stomach and chest. Harry lost all current train of thought as he heard a small scream of agony erupt from within her, and suddenly Joseph Willard did not matter anymore; no one mattered except her. He dashed over to where she was crouched and seized her hand firmly.

"Ruth?" he said desperately, feeling his own emotions rise to breaking point. "Ruth, sweetheart what's wrong?"

However, as she briefly opened her tightly shut eyes and caught sight of him, she let out another small cry of horror and desperately tried to move herself away from him, even though she as backed against a wall, and he attached to her hand. "Get off me!" she cried roughly, trying to snatch her arm away when he did not relinquish his grip.

As if he had touched a boiling hot pan, Harry snatched his hand away in alarm, realising that his dread of her seeing him interrogate Willard was a reality. He had worked so hard to get her to trust him over the last few days, yet now she cowered before him, a complete emotional wreck, despite the progress she had been making. Unable to withhold his anger from Calum, he stood and whirled round to snap, "Why the hell did you let her come down here?"

"She was already losing it upstairs!" Calum cried, letting his distress at seeing Ruth in such a state finally show. "She wanted to see you! She trusts you!"

"Trusted!" Harry yelled, heavily pronouncing the past tense, and balling his fists in anger. "That poor girl needed someone to trust! Who's she going to trust now? You? Because after what she's just seen, I hardly think she's going to trust m-"

Before Harry could finish his rant, Ruth let out another scream of agony, and clutched again at her stomach, sobbing in distress. Harry whirled around, and despite Ruth's struggling as he seized her wrists, he pulled them away from her stomach even though he knew that if there was a problem with the baby, there would be no outward signs of it. He just felt he had to do something.

"Ruth tell me what's wrong." He tried to say as calmly as possible, however as she heard his voice again, she grew even more distraught, and sobbed harder than ever. "Ruth, you're clearly in pain and I need to know what's wrong? What hurts?"

Again, she tried to shuffle away from him and snatch her wrists from out of his firm grasp with a virtually indistinguishable sob of, "Get away from me…don't you hurt my baby."

However, it was apparently distinguishable enough because Calum suddenly stopped his anxious shaking and stared open-mouthed at the woman before him.

"Ruth, come on," Harry said desperately, almost in as much of a state as she was by this point. "It's me. It's Harry. Remember that night…remember what I said about looking after you and the baby…our baby. For God's sake Ruth, I'm its father…of course I wouldn't hurt it. And I would never, _ever_ hurt you."

The pair were so completely wrapped up in their own little world, that they did not notice Calum swear loudly at the confirmed revelation. However his swearing was not only justifiable for this reason, as during Harry's last speech to the woman he loved, he had not noticed the door to the viewing booth swing open, he had not heard the sound of footsteps approach as Erin entered the room…and he had not seen the British Home Secretary appear from behind his senior officer.

Calum's swearing finally seemed to have grabbed Harry's attention and, despite the complaints of his back whilst he crouched on the floor, he followed Calum's gaze towards the door, finally registering with an enormous sinking feeling in his stomach, the appearance of the Home Secretary. Towers' eyes were wide with shock, and then after a moment he narrowed them in unmistakable anger.

"Harry," he growled. "You've got some explaining to do."

* * *

><p>It was past normal hours and almost everyone on the grid had decided to take the sensible choice of going home, with the exception of Harry's team, who, as Calum had deemed appropriately, were all set for an extreme bollocking. Erin sat slumped in her chair, chin on her hand and staring through the glass walls of Harry's office in which Harry now stood participating in a heated argument with the British Home Secretary. Only half an hour beforehand he had been sitting in his chair underneath Towers' eye, with an expression rather like a chastised schoolboy, and she half wondered what exactly had got him so riled up that he was actually answering back. Calum sat just across from her, eyes on his computer screen, feeling more comfortable now he was back behind a desk doing work which he was used to, however the events of that day had apparently taken their toll on him as well, and his eyes kept slipping from the computer screen, thus betraying his lack of concentration.<p>

The dreaded incident had occurred almost five hours beforehand, since which, with the excuse of the Harry's apparent indiscretion with Ruth, Towers had persuaded, or rather forced them to release Willard. Harry had authorised this however with an expression as if he was sucking a particularly sour lemon and barely restrained himself from punching Joseph Willard as he strolled cockily from the building and into the arms of his wife and child. In that time, the Home Secretary had also interviewed each one of them, including Erin, Calum and Dimitri on their knowledge of the Russian case, Willard's capture, and what he called Harry and Ruth's one night stand. He had of course half interrogated Harry on his account of things several times; however, even _he_ was not fool enough to question Ruth, who had been escorted up to the medical room by Dimitri only half an hour after the incident. Dimitri, under Harry's orders, had apparently remained with her the whole time, only leaving her side to answer Towers' questions. From what Erin and Calum had gathered, he had answered somewhat enigmatically and refused to provide him with any details on Harry and Ruth's private matters, something which Erin had a great deal of respect for. Erin sighed; she herself had been torn between her duty and her loyalty to a man and woman who, in the short time she had been on the grid, she had come to respect and admire greatly. She had pondered briefly whether it was the Home Secretary's job to actually be doing all of this; however she had thought it best not to argue. Upon his questions on Ruth's pregnancy, she had answered somewhat frostily, remembering how exactly life had been for her when she had been left pregnant following a stupid mistake of a one night stand. If only she had been so lucky as to have someone like Harry who it seemed, actually wanted to be involved in the child's life. She had to remind herself however, that Harry and Ruth were so very much in love, it hurt to see them unable to work things out. It seemed as if a cruel force was constantly working against them; it was not her place to say, but she thought that surely if two people were in love, they should be allowed to be together. According to MI5, apparently not, especially regarding Harry's position, and especially regarding his statement during the inquiry that he had absolutely no feelings towards Ruth, except that of boss and subordinate.

"Why the hell did you bring Ruth down to the cells?" Erin demanded suddenly of Calum, unable to take the awkward silence anymore. Calum clearly was demanding of himself the same thing, but his pride would not let him admit that, and he frowned.

"She was already in a state...demanding Harry. What else could I do?"

Erin sighed, knowing that really, had she been in the same situation, she would have done the same thing. "I've never seen anyone in a state like that Cal." She said quietly, all of her boss-like fighting sense having evaporated some hours ago. "Let alone Ruth. I mean, she's always seemed to calm and…controlled."

Calum shrugged and finally gave up, turning away from his computer to look at his colleague, "Yeah, but what do we know? All of this…baby stuff," he said, sounding awkward just saying the word 'baby'. "Started before we ever arrived here. Who knows how long either Harry or Ruth knew of it before it started coming out into the open."

Erin smiled sadly, "What a world for a child to be born in. It's not exactly the perfect situation is it?"

Calum fidgeted with a nearby ruler for a moment before suddenly spouting, "So do you really reckon it was some one night fling, or do you think they've actually been doing it on and off for some time?"

Erin stared scandalised at her colleague before glaring at him frustrated, "You know," she snapped. "For one gloriously stupid moment, I thought that perhaps you had matured after all this." Calum had the good grace to look ashamed as he realised that she was right. "If you want my opinion, yes, I think it was one night, but firstly, it wasn't a one night stand because trust me, the man always leaves you alone without another word afterwards, secondly it really isn't our business to pry into their private lives and finally, hasn't that poor woman gone through enough without you trying to make office gossip out of something which she's obviously upset at?"

Calum was now staring at the floor in disgrace, sincerely regretting his words. After a few minutes of lengthy silence he nodded. "You're right, I'm…sorry."

Erin glanced up, "What?"

"I'm…sorry okay?" he said, sounding annoyed that he had to repeat himself.

Erin smirked slightly, "I've never heard you apologise before."

Calum raised one eyebrow before busying himself by returning to his computer, "That's because I'm nearly always right."

Erin shook her head, her mood lightened only slightly. After a few more moments of watching the headed argument between the Home Secretary and Harry continue, she stared at Calum, whose eyes were fixed on the computer screen, but were not actually moving.

"Do you think they're going to lose their jobs?" she asked him quietly, in such a tone of vulnerability it caused his head to look up without retort.

He sighed, "Are you asking me what I hope or what I actually think?" he said honestly, looking slightly remorseful for his colleagues, and thus, betraying all. After a beat he asked her, "Do you we're going to lose our jobs?"

Erin smiled sadly at him again, "Are you asking me what I hope or what I actually think?"

* * *

><p>"Joseph Willard shouldn't have been allowed to be released." Harry snapped tiredly, furious at having just seen Willard released with 'sincere apologies' and just strut out of the building into the arms of his incredibly naïve family. He watched Towers shut the office door behind them as they entered the office, drawing the blinds half down so that Erin and Calum, who were outside, could only vaguely see into the office. "He is necessary to giving vital information for this case."<p>

The Home Secretary glared at him, and sat himself down with a grateful sigh in one of the chairs opposite the desk. "A case which apparently you are seriously compromised with, and have been since the beginning."

"Ruth's rape has only a tiny part to do with this." Harry insisted, well aware that in the back of his mind, it was the major part of why they had captured Willard. "There is so much more-"

"Oh please Harry," Towers said, raising his hand tiredly over his face, whilst Harry also took the opportunity of sitting down, feeling slightly more comforted that he was back in his comfy chair, the place where he usually issued his statements of power. "Willard said himself that all you bamboozled out of him was the details of that one night. And we had no choice to let him go, particularly after how you have treated him – the man had a broken nose Harry, and he has every right to make an argument for grievous bodily harm. He says you tried to strangle him-"

"Well you do your work Home Secretary and I'll do mine." Harry growled.

"Well if this truly is the work you people do, then I have to say I am actually quite glad to be a politician." Towers snapped. "But you have been entirely compromised since Ms Evershed's attack."

Harry gritted his teeth as he thought how he was so much more compromised with the Gavriks' but thought he better not mention anything like that at this point, as he had probably already signed his release from the service.

"Elena Gavrik was almost assassinated," Towers continued, his nostrils flaring. "I hate to say it but in the public's eyes, she is a more important figure than your precious Ms Evershed, and so she is the one who will be getting public sympathy. You tell me how the British Government can be justified in saying we're doing all we can to protect her, find out who was behind the attack and for what purpose when in actuality, our security services are doing sod all." He folded his arms across his chest in a manner which said he was not happy at all. "I don't know if you have been paying any attention to the real news in this matter, but Ilya Gavrik has since decided to not to sign the agreement, and do you know what that means? Not only have we got the Americans' with a bee in their bonnet, but the Russians as well!"

Harry sat slumped defeated in his chair, at a loss of what he could say, and feeling rather like a chastised schoolboy.

"So when I told you to organise some protection for Ilya Gavrik and his family, and find out the source of these attacks," Towers continued, growing redder and redder with fury each moment. "What did you do? Absolutely nothing. For God's sake Harry, you're a prominent Section Head in MI5 – I sweated blood to try and get you back here and all you do is throw it back in my face. Your job is to serve your country and save this agreement at whatever cost, and somewhere in the back of your thick stubborn skull, you know that there is that same man there. The only problem is you let one woman in to dominate your career."

"Ruth has nothing to do with any of this." Harry said firmly, but he realised he sounded more tired than argumentative.

"If I had a pound for every time I've heard you say that in this last year, I would be a very rich man by now and wouldn't have to get up in the morning and work to pay off my children's University debts." Towers growled. "Ms Evershed it seems has far more to do with this than any of us realised."

Harry's heart sank, and he now knew the lecture about himself and Ruth was due to follow. He braced himself, but all he could think of was the image of Ruth recoiling away from him in that room, genuinely terrified that he was going to hurt both her and the baby.

"Pregnant Harry!" Towers snapped, raising yet another hand over his face tiredly. "You knocked up your bloody analyst!" Harry said nothing except thought of how coarse the subject sounded when Towers put it like that. "When? When exactly did this happen? During the inquiry when you assured the panel and I that the only relationship you had with Ms Evershed was a working one? Before the Albany affair even which would mean you've taken us all for fools this whole time?"

"With all due respect sir," Harry said, also folding his arms across his chest stubbornly. "It's not really any of your business."

Towers looked furious, "It is when I put my own bloody career on the line insisting to that inquiry panel that you and Ms Evershed were no more than colleagues, and you gave away a state secret for that reason. It is when it's me who is going to have to save you yet again when they try to hang you out to dry."

Harry stared mutinously at the Home Secretary for a moment before snapping, "The night of the Albany affair. And it was just once-"

"So I when I rang you up with a warning to absolutely stay away from any of your colleagues, particularly Ms Evershed, you took completely no notice." Harry gritted his teeth and wondered how Ruth was doing upstairs in the medical bay, and silently prayed that the baby was alright. Towers groaned into his hands before staring seriously at Harry, "You do realise this is going to cause a major scandal?" Harry sighed tiredly and nodded, feeling remorseful for poor Ruth who had been so terrified of what everyone else would think. "Your team seem to have done a pretty good job of concealing this, loyal bunch that they are."

"You could as well." Harry said hopefully, however the look on Towers' face was possibly even more furious than before.

"People will notice Harry," he snapped. "And more importantly, your tenuous relationship with that woman and…the child will almost certainly cause more harm to your decision-making than good."

"You're not going to fire Ruth as well." Harry said desperately, although he knew the answer even before he asked the question.

However, Towers said surprisingly, "I've been advised not to. Not just yet anyway."

Harry looked back in surprise, "Who advised you?"

"One of your superiors." He said, in a voice which would give absolutely nothing away. "After passing on the report you gave the inquiry and the one you gave to myself as well regarding Ms Evershed's skills as an analyst, it is quite obvious that she is a skilled worker and, how did you put it," he continued, screwing up his face to remember an extract of the report. "Necessary to this country's intelligence. The inquiry panel might be persuaded to give her a second chance."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, although he knew the likelihood of Ruth wanting to return to this job after this much of a scandal was vey slight.

"However," Towers continued, causing Harry to look up again, extremely suspicious. "From the way Ms Evershed looked downstairs, and of course in reaction to the rape, I expressed my concerns that perhaps she was in a state of turmoil; that perhaps she needs a bit of help through it."

Harry frowned, deeply suspicious. "What do you mean?"

Towers sighed, "Your superior advised me," he looked warily at Harry. "And he also said both of you would be against this idea – he advised Ms Evershed to be allowed to spent a bit of time at…what do you call it…I think the man said 'TRING'?"

Harry stared open-mouthed at the Home Secretary for a moment, knowing full well what other officers thought of TRING, he having been there himself on one occasion. The people there mind probed you and pretended to understand what you were feeling – good in some cases but in others…disastrous. He thought painfully of how Ruth would react to this suggestion and feared she would go even more downhill, "No." he growled firmly, suddenly on the alert and rising from his chair. "No you can't send her the TRING."

"Harry," Towers said as gently as possible. "I was told that she could really be helped there."

"Yes," Harry snapped. "They can help her to feel about an inch tall! All Ruth needs is some good human decency and some love after what she's been through."

Towers' eyes narrowed, sensing the argument come on, "And I suppose you think you're the one to do that."

"Well I've been doing just fine over the last few days." Harry snapped back.

"Yes," Towers said sarcastically, also rising to stand. "It looked like it when she was cowering away from you downstairs." Harry shot him a look of pure fury but the other man continued. "The woman needs help Harry, you can see she does."

"And what about the baby?" Harry demanded.

"For God's sake Harry," Towers cried frustrated, pacing up and down. "You're MI5. You and Ms Evershed are supposed to be the ones to advise me. This is not my job!"

"Then don't do it then!" Harry cried heatedly.

Towers sighed pallidly, "If I were you Harry, if you want to keep what remaining tatters of a career you have, I would leave Ms Evershed and…her child alone. The best you can hope for now is a plea that it was all a mistake."

"I will not abandon her!" Harry yelled furiously, picking up one the nearby whiskey glasses and throwing it at the wall on the far side of the room, where it promptly smashed loudly.

Towers sighed wanly, and shook his head, surprisingly not perturbed by Harry's gesture of anger. He began to walk tiredly towards the office door, and once his hand was on the handle he said quietly, his voice apologetic and full of respect, "I've given you my opinion." He said sighing. "But it's up to you. I'll do my best…as always because you're a good man and usually know what's right for your country." He applied pressure to the handle and slid it along it's frame. "But Harry, for God's sake…help yourself by doing simple tasks. Top of the agenda is organising protection for the Gavrik's and find out why and who wants this agreement to go unfounded."

Flashing Harry one last sad smile, he left the room. Harry watched the older man stride across the grid and out of the pods before his eyes connected briefly with Erin's outside, and he threw himself furiously into his chair.

* * *

><p>A number of hours later, Harry sat, still slumped in his chair, draining the last dregs of a whiskey bottle, in his only remaining glass. The other one still lay in pieces over the far side of the office, but he had no intention of clearing it up right now. He had watched Erin and Calum file out of the pods, Calum looking particularly guilty, and even though he had glared at the young officer, Harry knew he did not really blame Calum. The truth of Ruth's situation would have leaked somehow, but whether or not Ruth would ever trust him again was an entirely different matter.<p>

He had forced himself of his chair several times to visit Ruth upstairs, but had then convinced himself back down with echo of Towers' words, or the worry that Ruth would not want to see him after everything that had happened that day. He still prayed that the baby was alright, because she had been clutching so tightly to her stomach, it had looked as if there was something serious wrong with her. And if she had lost the baby on his account, he would never ever forgive himself, and thus she would definitely not want to see him. He looked miserably down into the glass and was just about to reach for the bottle again when he heard a slight knocking on the office door. It was tired and tentative, and Harry half wondered, half hoped that it was Ruth, having finally learnt to knock. Yet he was not too surprised when the door opened and Dimitri emerged through it.

"How is she?" was Harry's immediate question, as he stood a little unsteadily to greet him.

Dimitri smiled sadly, but the fact that he was smiling was a hopeful sign. "She's okay. The Doctor said that the pains were just part of her being so stressed lately. The baby's fine but she apparently had a little bit of a panic attack."

Harry stared at his officer for a moment, supposing that he should be grateful that the situation was not more serious, before nodding, "Right. Thank you Dimitri." He attempted to smile at him gratefully, but it appeared as more of a grimace. "Thank you for staying with her. I'll have to try and explain all this to her when I get home," he checked his watch. "Or maybe even tomorrow morning. Is that really the time?"

Dimitri faltered and his eyes lowered to the floor, putting Harry instantly on alert, "What?" he said, his heart pounding. "What is it?"

"Erm…"Dimitri said awkwardly. "Er…you're not going to be happy Harry…really."

"Why?" the older man demanded.

Dimitri sighed, "The Doctor and apparently one of…your inquiry panel members came to see her…to try and persuade her to go to TRING for a few weeks – see if she'll get any better there after all she's been through recently."

"Oh God," Harry said, shoving the glass heavily down on the table for fear he might throw that one across the room as well. "They tried to persuade her to go to the mad house?" he thought of how distressed Ruth would be in reaction to someone trying to persuade her to go there. She had seen how distraught Adam had been when he had been forced o attend TRING; the only problem was, Harry was not convinced that she was as strong as Adam was at dealing with so much trauma. "Is she alright?"

Dimitri shrugged and said quietly, "Honestly, she's okay. She agreed to go. Tonight."

Harry's mouth was agape for more than a few seconds, before he felt his heart break. He knew it was because of what she had seen this morning; she must truly see him as some sort of monster. "She agreed to go?" he said hoarsely.

Dimitri swallowed and nodded, "Yes…I'm so sorry Harry. I tried to persuade her to see you…that it was alright and that you were doing it for her but…no. I drove her to TRING after stopping at her house to get some of her things…I am sorry"

"But…but it's all so sudden." Harry said weakly, reaching for the arm of his chair and slumping back down. "I mean…she actually wanted to go?"

Dimitri sighed, "Maybe it's for the best after all…I mean, I know I wasn't actually there but…Calum said that she was in a real state, and…and I really want her to get better. Maybe this way, she'll be happier…she'll learn to cope"

Harry turned to stare at Dimitri once more before nodding slowly and painfully; he did not agree with this or with Ruth's choice but he would accept anything that made her happier. He nodded gratefully at Dimitri in silent apology for their argument earlier and in muted thanks for all he had done for Ruth that day. Somehow, Dimitri seemed to have a better idea than he did as to what was best for Ruth.

"Thanks Dimitri," he said quietly. "You should go home…try and salvage some sleep."

Dimitri rather looked as if he was preparing to stay, "Are you sure? Because-"

"Really," Harry said. "Go home. We have to sort out the Gavrik situation tomorrow, and we'll need all hands on deck."

Dimitri sighed once again, but nodded and left Harry in peace. As he watched Dimitri exit through the pods, only then did Harry let the threatening tears fall thick and fast onto his lap. And they only went away when he succumbed to the alcohol's temptation of sleep.

**Aaahhh...I'm so sorry, but I promise you it gets better...just humour me for the moment. The next chapter will be the state of the inquiry and Harry's reunion with both Elena and Ruth. I don't know what you think of these but I came up with one or two names myself: for a girl, Annabelle (lengthened version of Anne) which means loveable and graceful, and Lily, which is a symbol of purity, Lucy which means light, and Charlotte which means free person. For a boy: I liked someone's suggestion of James, which is a biblical term, Sam meaning good at listening/achievement and Andrew, which means manly. Anyway this is just me being really strange because I have a random knowledge of the philosophy of names. Thank you so much for your own suggestions and if you have any more thoughts I'd be very grateful. I hope you like chapter anyway. Please please please review...they absolutely make my day and encourage me to write faster. :) xxxxx**


	24. Chapter 24

**Hhmm...some mixed reviews about the last chapter, and I'm so sorry about all the angst, but it does get better...just bear with me :) I'm surprised by how much of this story I've actually managed to complete over the last few days, but I don't know when my next update will be because I'm back to work tomorrow. I am extremely grateful for all of the reviews you have sent me, and I take them all on board. Thank you so much. Even if you disturbed by the angst, you might want to keep reading though...Please review :)**

Over one and a half months had passed since Harry and Ruth's secret had been discovered, and although inwardly so much had changed, based on outward appearance, everything was pretty much the same. Despite fears that Harry and his team would lose their jobs as a result of the scandal, their careers had managed to thankfully remain intact. Harry had been especially surprised considering Tower's words in his office that night, however, at least for the time being, he was allowed to continue as normal whilst the inquiry into his career and behaviour continued. The arrangement was that he would work each day of the week, with the exception of Thursdays', during which the inquiry hearings would take place. Over the weeks Erin, Dimitri and Calum had also been called up to speak a few words on their boss, probably in the hope that they would let something slip, however, they remained loyal to the last.

The greatest change that Harry had noticed within his team was that Erin now seemed to be a lot more in tune with the idea of being a team player, and no longer questioned his every demand, whilst Calum on the whole appeared to have matured a great deal, and since the incident in the cells, seemed to have developed a passable degree of tact. He only person Harry had seen neither hide nor hair of since that day, was the one person he so desperately wanted to see. Although he frequently tried to contact her, he never received any such reply, and though he had considered it during moments of desperation, he could not try to visit her in person or perform anything noticeable for fear of destroying both of their careers, and his teams' as well.

Harry's team noticed just how miserable he was to be around these days, for although he was as good a his job as he had ever been, he would rarely talk to anyone unless it was absolutely necessary, and would shut himself in his office for long periods of time, with a bottle of whiskey to ease the pain. Harry missed Ruth greatly, and although at the time he would not have thought If possible, he missed her even more than when she had served her exile in Cyprus, or during that two month period during the first inquiry. He supposed it was the empty feeling he felt now that she was no longer present in his house, and although he knew it was probably a terrible thing to think, he had loved having her around, loved cuddling her tightly when she had nightmares, and loved the domestic feeling of cooking dinners for two. He constantly found himself wondering about the state of the baby, and whether she was looking after herself or not, having been told she was still at TRING. It was an extraordinarily long time to spend there, especially for someone a stubborn as Ruth, but he reasoned that she had so many harsh memories to sort out. He had also worked out that she would be around five months gone by now and thus, would be proudly sporting a baby bump, although on second thoughts…for Ruth, maybe not proudly.

As Tower's had ordered, Harry had amended the security on the Gavrik's, alternating Erin and Dimitri so that he would have one of them on the grid at all times in the event of an emergency. He had also not seen Elena Gavrik since the night of Ruth's attack, something which he supposed she would be rather upset about, but he could not help the feeling of betrayal to Ruth each time he built himself up to it. He also thought that Ilya Gavrik would not be particularly pleased or without suspicion when he turned up on their doorstep twenty-four-seven. Harry had been careful to play the good little civil servant role in order to persuade Gavrik to sign the treaty once and for all. Reluctantly, he had been forced to drop all investigation in to Ruth's rape, including running the footage through the systems, as it had been deemed too trivial. Privately, he had debated the task of continuing his own investigation into Coaver, capturing him through maverick methods which would not involve his team at all, however this was not possible after Coaver had been assigned protection in preparation for this incident by the CIA, and Harry had been given his own private bodyguard, who was in fact a Government tail to stop him from doing anything rash.

Harry sat in his chair now, watching the burly bodyguard through his window, trying to work out how exactly he was supposed to apprehend the Gavriks' attempted assassins, when the prime suspect had the full support of the CIA and the British Government. It was Thursday morning, and he was waiting until he was called down to the usual tiresome inquiry hearing, with a drink of whiskey in hand, without a second thought as to how early it was to consume alcohol. He turned as he heard a small rap on the door and Dimitri popped his head round the office door.

"Inquiry wants you Harry." He sighed, finding this system almost as irksome as his boss. He slid the door open fully as Harry groaned and got to his feet, taking one last gulp of alcohol before he exited the room, his expression rather like a man about to be sent to his execution. "Are you okay?"

Harry sighed and ran his hand tiredly over his eyes; it was plain to Dimitri that the older man had not been sleeping well, if at all, and he very much doubted if it was entirely due to the inquiry and his crumbling career. The grid missed Ruth greatly – they missed her kind, gentle presence, her analytical skills and mainly her general brilliance, but no one missed her more than Harry. Dimitri himself had not heard from her since he had driven her to TRING that night, but he knew from what Harry had confided in him, that she was still there. The general conception on the grid, especially since her outburst nearly two months ago, was that she had experienced a complete breakdown.

"Fine," Harry lied, fooling no one, but sounding more like Ruth in that one word than humanly possible. "Got to face the guillotine once again…we must take it in our stride." He looked seriously at his young officer. "Erin detected any problems with the Gavriks' security?"

"No…all fine." Dimitri replied smiling slightly. "Although all this sucking up seems to be doing the trick…hopefully the treaty will be signed any day now."

Harry nodded, "Thank God." He sighed. The damn Russian treaty had caused more harm than good.

"By the way," Dimitri continued nervously. "It's Rosie's birthday today…erm…Erin's daughter." He reminded Harry as he looked blank. "And although it's okay at the moment because she's at school, she said she really wants Erin to be at home tonight."

Harry looked rather blank, as if his thoughts were still elsewhere, "R..right." he nodded. "How old is she?"

"Seven." Dimitri replied hopefully. "I was wondering if it was okay if I took over for Erin tonight so that she can be with her daughter…I know it would mean the world to both of them."

"Right." Harry repeated lamely before coming to his senses, faced with Dimitri's expectant expression. "Okay…fine…do that." He nodded. "And she covers for you tomorrow night right?"

"That's the plan."

Harry stared at his young officer bleakly, wondering if it was the alcohol in his system at such an early moment in the day that was causing him to imagine a slight blush creeping into Dimitri's cheeks. He had picked up on slight things like her calling him 'Di' or the fact that he had caught him hugging her after he brutal questioning at the hand of the inquiry two weeks ago, however Harry could only listlessly come to the conclusion that all of them had been forced to bond together during recent months. Even Calum seemed to have come together and although it may have been out of guilt for the incident, he had resorted to calling Harry by his first name or 'sir' instead of with an arrogant 'Oi'.

With one final nod at Dimitri, Harry turned and strode reluctantly across the grid and downstairs to face yet another inquiry panel full of lunkheads and sanctimonious know-it-all's.

As he made his way downstairs, faces turned to stare in his direction; people he did not even know, but apparently they knew him – or rather they knew and loved gossiping about his and Ruth's relationship. In all honesty, he was not perturbed by it, having experienced many worse things than a bit of office gossip. It was only in these moments that he was glad that Ruth was no longer there, as coupled with the exposure of her pregnancy and the inevitable growth of her stomach, she probably not have been able to bear the comments people murmured as they passed. In contrast, Harry merely stared back, resulting in the offended nearly always looking away nervously, having heard about the legendary Harry Pearce temper. Harry had thought many a times over this past month how much the work place was in actuality, a lot like school with the gossiping and snide looks. It did not help that Harry was convinced of the fact that everyone entering the service was getting younger by the year. As it was, the boy he passed at that moment in time did not appear to look a day over eighteen.

Nevertheless, he was thankful to reach the first floor where the tribunal room was situated. He glanced at his watch and was relieved to see that he was exactly on time; he did not think he could stand long minutes of waiting, comforted only by the thought of the bottle of whiskey in his office when it was over. Dragging on his best nonchalant face, Harry turned the doorknob and entered the room.

The panel were already seated, four of them all in a row, as if lined up to take their turn in giving him some more grief. Karen Moore, who was sitting at the head of the table, was the same woman he recognised from the original inquiry – she had been the one constant interrogator in both tribunals; he assumed that was to make him feel more grounded and at ease to tell the truth, but in reality, he just found it more disturbing. Three older men sat to her side respectively, and they all looked up as he entered.

"Take a seat Mr Pearce." Karen ordered, nodding to the uncomfortable-looking seat which was set out in the same format as the inquiry had always been; the onlookers behind him. Again, Harry tried not to feel bristled about the fact that he was being ordered around by someone considerably younger than him, who would have been in nappies when he first started his career in MI5. Still, Harry played the good little Civil Servant role again and with a small look in the direction of Towers, who was sitting in the corner of the room, as it had been his turn to give a statement almost an hour ago, he sat down heavily. Karen finished consulting the notes she had in front of her and observed Harry for a few seconds.

"Last session Mr Pearce," she said considering the notes in front of her. "You confirmed that there had been something of a relationship between yourself and Ruth Evershed, but that it had never really developed; that the night you spent together was something a little out of the ordinary. I do have to remind you that you did this without authorisation or going through the correct channels and procedures in which MI5 officers are expected to undertake. In addition to this, you steadfastly lied to this tribunal only a few months ago in saying that personal relationships were irrelevant and that there was nothing more than a working relationship between the two of you, regardless of the fact that only two months previously, you had slept together."

Harry gritted his teeth, but forced his face to stay as indifferent as possible, and nodded.

"Today," Karen continued. "We are going to review exactly what happened the night you gave away the state secret Albany, and how it led to the conceiving of a child."

As she spoke, Harry heard the shift of the doors as they opened and the soft footsteps of a latecomer enter, and take a seat in the audience behind him. He was sorely temped to turn around and look, but forced himself to nod and remain impassive to Karen's words. She took another moment to consult her notes before glancing up yet again.

"Why did you go to Ms Evershed's house that night?" Harry heard some shifting behind him, which he found infuriating as he was trying to concentrate on an answer that was half-way between the truth, and believable as an answer to keep his job, something which Towers had persuaded him to fight for.

"I was…concerned over her welfare," Harry replied, considering his words wisely. "She had been very disturbed by the days events, and I wanted to check if my officer was a, coping and b, returning to work properly the following day, or whether she required a few days off."

"So you're saying that you did this for a predominantly working-based reason…you visited her as an employee, rather than your lover?" Karen probed, fixing him with that infuriating stare.

"There has always been some…tension between Ms Evershed and myself," Harry continued, trying to work out when exactly his lying skills had gone from first-class to exceptional. "But yes, I went there to check that my employee had not been too disturbed by the day's events."

There was more rustling and shifting behind him, and he frowned, annoyed.

"You did not go there with the intention of sleeping with her?" Karen prodded, the men on each side of her scribbling, as she talked.

"No." Harry replied, entirely truthful for the first time since the inquiry began.

"And you went there even though hours previously, Home Secretary William Towers rang you to suggest that by the following you might not even have a job at MI5"

Harry forced himself not to swallow, and straightened his face to impassiveness once again. "Yes."

"Why did you do that? What could possibly be gained from a house call to an employee who was, in truth, not likely to be your employee for much longer?"

"I have been in the security services for over thirty years," Harry replied, knowing in his heart that this was not the reason, but he forced his brain into thinking it was so that the story would be believable. "Before that I attended Sandhurst and served in the army for a number of years. I had experience in my grasp from the duration of those years, in both the death of fellow friends and colleagues and being held prisoner. I felt that she might benefit from that."

"So you didn't visit her out of any personal feelings or concerns for her?"

The shifting sounded again, and Harry had to literally force his fists from balling in frustration. "I…cared for her."

Karen's eyes narrowed in disbelief, "So did you love her?"

"What?"

"_Do_ you love her?"

"That is irrelevant," Harry snapped, trying not to show that he was rattled.

"It is relevant," Karen said, he eyes flashing dangerously. "If it means you lied about giving away a state secret to the Chinese, and if it was due to this, the grievous bodily harm to Joseph Willard, a so-called suspect from the CIA."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Karen beat him to it: "Also, a few months ago, following the event of Ms Evershed's rape at the hands of unknown assailants, you proceeded to invite her to stay in your own home."

"With all due respect," Harry growled, now having to vigorously force his anger down in order to appear nonchalant. "The woman had just been violently raped in her own home; due to the fact that we haven't found and by that, I mean we have not been _allowed_ to find her assailants, it would be wrong to send her back to her own house after she left the hospital."

Karen shrugged, "So why not a safe house? Send her live with a friend? Why did she stay with you?"

"In this job," Harry said, thinking fast for a believable answer. "You don't really have an opportunity to meet many friends. As it was, due to the result of her exile some years ago, most of her friends thought her to be dead, and her family were already deceased. Sending her to live with colleagues which she has not known for long, especially after the particularly violent nature of her attack, was a near impossibility. The only other possibility was to ask Miss Watts, however she has a young daughter, and I would not be willing to put them in danger. Thus, as she had known me the longest, I informed her she could stay with me until we found her assailants."

The restless shifting behind him came again, and Harry fought to keep his agitation under control. The person, who from the tone of voice, sounded like a female, coughed slightly, deepening his annoyance.

"I'll ask you again, why not a safe house Mr Pearce?" Karen demanded, eyebrows raised, a glint of disbelief still in her eye.

Harry did his best to meet her in the eye as he said, "I trusted neither the safe house, nor Ms Evershed's state of mind at the time. I thought it was better for someone to keep a watchful eye over her for the time being."

Karen clicked her tongue, but seemed to accept the answer, "So then," she continued. "Taking us back to the night of the Albany affair, why, if you felt no personal feelings for her, did you sleep with her?"

This time Harry swallowed, knowing he was about to vocalise a lie that even in his head, sounded wrong to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Towers sitting there patiently, nodding ever so slightly as if sensing his thoughts. He had to tell this lie, he thought, for not only the sake of his job but for Ruth's as well.

"The day had been very long, very hard and very costly to both of us; that coupled with the fact that she and I have always shared a certain…sexual tension," he continued, forcing himself not to wince at his own lie. "It caused us to partake in a serious…mistake." Harry actually did wince at the roughness of the word 'mistake', having been unable to think of another except quote Towers suggestion from almost two months ago.

The woman causing the rustling and disturbance, sniffed and coughed yet again, agitating Harry to such an extent that he was determined to turn around the next time she felt the need to do it.

"So you admit that sleeping together was a mistake?" Karen prompted, and Harry wondered if she experienced some sort of sick pleasure from probing other people's private lives. "That it was a breach of employer-employee boundaries? That you regret it happening?"

Harry thought of Ruth's career in tatters; of his career in ruins and thus being unable to find Ruth's attackers, and Tariq's killers, of the job that had been his whole life for thirty years, even during his divorce to Jane, and so he nodded. "Yes."

Karen stared at him for a few more moments before clicking her tongue again, and writing a few notes down for herself. Harry waited as patiently as he could, even though he felt completely drained, not to mention ashamed of the lies he had told to maintain his and Ruth's careers. He could not wait to return to his own office, his own comfy chair, and that bottle of whiskey. Eventually, Karen looked up and provided a fake smile that did not meet her eyes, "Right…thank you Mr Pearce…I think that's all for today."

Harry nodded, only too glad that it was all over for another week and began to rise from his chair. He wondered curiously for a moment why the panel were not rising as well, as they usually finished when he did, however his thoughts came to an abrupt end when Karen looked past him into the audience behind him and said calmly, "Ms Evershed would you like to take a seat."

Harry's heart stopped. It took a few seconds for his brain the process the sentence – it could not be…please…it could not. Yet as he whirled round, he came face to face with the woman who, despite his longing for her over these long months, would be the last person he would have waned to hear those downright lies. He searched her face for any sign that she might by some coincidence have not heard what he had just said, that she understood his reasoning. Yet a their eyes connected, he saw by their brightness that she was only just managing to keep the tears at bay; that she had heard, and she most definitely did not understand. As he stared horrified at her pale cheeks and pained expression, it suddenly dawned on him who exactly had been the latecomer into the inquiry room, and why they had been constantly fidgeting. The sniffs and the coughs now made a great deal of sense, but it did not ease Harry's thoughts one bit. From the look of betrayal in her eyes, she quite plainly believed all that he had just said, and Harry could not stop himself from slapping a hand over his mouth in horror. Their reunification could not possibly have gone more wrong; he had been preparing to explain to her about the incident in th cells with Willard ever since her departure for TRING, and he had been desperately planning some sort of reconciliation, during which he would tell her how much he loved her. However now in this room, under encouragement from the Home Secretary, and completely oblivious to her presence, he had pretty much just stated the opposite. All the good he had done between them after her rape had been unravelled.

Unable to bear looking at him any longer, Ruth broke her pained eyes away from his and got to her feet to come forward to be questioned. It broke his heart to see her looking so betrayed; he had had no idea that Ruth was even being questioned, let alone today of all days. Unable to help himself, he assessed her appearance. The one immediately noticeable aspect of her appearance was that her stomach was a quite a bit larger than when they had last met, the baby bump immediately obvious now that she was five months pregnant. So much so, she was wearing a larger cardigan in a failed attempt to conceal her bump, and Harry noticed that she was still wearing trousers, even though skirts would be a great deal more comfortable. With his heart breaking even more, he realised that she was still taking badly, the effects of the rape; taking great care to conceal her body from sight. Her face was still pale, and although he knew it might just be down to his supposedly 'truthful' statements, he thought she looked incredibly ill. There were even larger dark circles around her eyes than before, and her cheeks were less full; the light had been extinguished from her eyes.

He watched her in horror as she neared him, in preparation to take his seat, and he noticed her take a deep breath, either in preparation of nearing him, or being questioned. Karen's voice shook him out of reverie:

"Mr Pearce you can go now."

Harry continued to stare at Ruth, wanting to do nothing else but take her in his arms and tell her he loved her, regardless of the panel, or of what he had just claimed. However, at the fact that Ruth's eyes just would not meet his anymore, he realised he was making her uncomfortable, making even more of a scene for her, than was necessary. Reluctantly, he nodded, stared at the woman he loved for one last time, and exited the room, under the watchful eye of Karen, who was smirking quite smugly, having gauged the reaction she hoped for.

* * *

><p>Harry perched on one of the hard chairs at the end of the corridor, making sure he had a good view of the inquiry room door, so that when Ruth came out, he could whisk her away and explain everything to her, and find out how she and the baby were doing. Surely she had to know that more or less everything he had said were lies, after everything that they had gone through together after the rape. But then, he remembered, he was not her favourite person at the moment. His mind kept flashing back to her sickly pallor and betrayed look in her eyes – he prayed that neither she nor the baby were ill. And the more he thought about her, the greater became his desire to see her. It was strange, he thought, how one appearance from her, could make months of building up a resolve disappear so quickly; because he did not care whether he lost his job or not now – all he wanted was Ruth…Ruth and their little baby.<p>

"Harry!"

He was shaken out of his reverie by a familiar, luxurious voice calling to him down the opposite end of the corridor to which he was watching. The voice registered in the back of his mind with both shivers from long ago, and pain in the present. He turned round to find none other than Elena Gavrik walking perfectly, as always, down the corridor towards him, her heels clicking noisily against the solid marble floor. Checking the door of the inquiry room one last time, and cursing the fact that she had cornered him, even after all these months of avoiding her, he finally rose to his feet to meet her.

"Elena, what are you doing here?" he demanded quietly, as she came to a stop in front of him. "We're not supposed to have contact – if Ilya finds out then our lives will not be worth living, and believe me he will-"

"I had to talk to you." She said quietly, the rich purring of her accent coming through perfectly, even now reminding Harry of a time he had long forgotten. "I contacted someone in your office…Dimitri?" Harry nodded. "He said I could find you down here…that you would have just come out."

"What's the matter?" he asked quietly, gently catching her arm and leading her behind a pillar so that they could not be seen by eyes or cameras. She followed him with ease and no objections, and once they were reasonably hidden she stared up at him, adoration still in her eyes. Harry did his best to avoid them.

"I have been sent another message," she said, reaching into her delicately embroidered handbag, and she gracefully pulled out a small slip of paper, identical to the other messages that Harry had seen when they had met at the Russian ball. "It is from the same person, pretending to be you – they even have your codes."

Harry narrowed his eyes and stared at the piece of paper, reading each word carefully several times to make sure he understood it correctly. "Whoever it is wants to meet?" he said, looking at Elena for confirmation.

She nodded and smiled, "I came to you straight away."

Harry sighed, this being the last thing he needed, however he could not afford to tell anyone for fear of Ilya finding out and Elena being compromised, not to mention more discrepancies for the inquiry to feast over. "When did you get this?" he asked quietly, still trying to avoid the look of adoration in Elena's eyes.

"About an hour ago." She replied softly. "They want to arrange a time and place where we can meet. Should I do it?"

"No." Harry said immediately. "No, you're not going there at all." He sighed and tried to force his brain back into spook mode, after the draining inquiry session. "Look," he said considering the eager woman before him. "This isn't just like Berlin…there's something much more sinister going on and I don't even know who's impersonating me-"

"But you suspect someone?" Elena asked, smiling softly as she read him like a book yet again.

Harry sighed, his mind fixed on Jim Coaver, the man who he had considered as his friend during the Cold War, but who seemed to be the cause of all thus trouble, and most wrongly of all, the cause of Ruth's pain. He suspected that Ruth had been attacked because she knew too much; he did not want the same thing happening to Elena. "Possibly." He said, determined not to reveal who for Elena's own good.

"Well then, what do I do?" she asked quietly, and paused for an instant as a suited man strode down the corridor behind them.

Harry sighed and thought for an instant, "There is no knowing how long I'll be in this job for now Elena," he said truthfully, although not unhappily. "So I cannot say that I can arrange a full-scale op. But I can tell one of my trusted officers," he said, wondering just what Dimitri was going to say when he heard about Harry's affair with Elena. "And he could work something out-"

"Harry please," she said, suddenly panicked. "We promised we would never tell anyone…you promised-"

Harry sighed, "Well I told Ruth," he said sadly. "And look what happened to her…"

There was a moments pause between the pair of them, as Elena studied Harry closely, the small smile on her face wavering a little. "Yes," she said after a minute. "Yes, I heard about that. I am sorry."

Harry averted his eyes, extremely uncomfortable at talking about such a matter with Elena, especially after all their own history, however he nodded gratefully. She seemed to sense his discomfort so she did not press anymore onto the subject of Ruth's health, which may have been a natural question. Instead she stared at him for a moment longer and said softly:

"I also heard that she is pregnant."

Harry's head shot up to look at her, readying some sort of explanation, but he was surprised to see her smiling slightly.

"It is alright Harry," she continued softly. "I understand that you love her… I suppose we of all people should understand what helpless love is." She smiled and watched Harry stare at her in amazement a moment longer before saying, "You do not waste any time with a woman do you Harry?"

In spite of himself, Harry could not help but smile at the knowing in her words, and was extremely grateful for her understanding. They stared at each other for a minute longer, memories being communicated through their eyes, before the moment ended.

"Elena," Harry said quietly, placing the message in his blazer pocket. "I will either arrange with Dimitri, one of my officers who I would trust with my life, or I will go myself to meet this drop. I'll arrange one…don't worry." He said encouragingly. "If you get anymore…"

"I will bring them to you." Elena nodded, smiling once more.

Both of them looked round the pillar to check that no one was walking in their direction, before slipping back into the corridor. She flashed him one last smile, "Good luck Harry," she said.

A sound from behind them alerted them both from their conversation, and Harry spun round to find the doors of the inquiry room finally opening. He was about to open his mouth to tell Elena to get back behind the pillar when of all people, Ruth walked silently out. Although her eyes were aimed at the ground, she seemed to sense someone's presence, and looked up. Harry looked on in horror once more as she met his eyes and then shifted her gaze to Elena, who was also standing stock still. His heart shattered when he saw her eyes water slightly as tears welled up, and he started towards her.

"Ruth!"

However, Ruth shook her head desperately, releasing a heart-breaking little cry, before turning to her left and hurrying as fast as her slightly protruding stomach would let her. She pressed the button to call the lift, and Harry prayed quickly that the lift would not reach her in the time it took him to get to her. He broke into a run, and was almost satisfied that he would catch her, until he saw her disappear into through the open doors of he lift. He arrived just in time to see the doors close in front of her tearful face.

"No!" he cried desperately, banging on metal shutters of the lift in frustration. He was so distraught that it did not even occur to him to check which floor she was heading to. After a few minutes of forcing his tears down, he wiped his hand quickly down his face and turned around bitterly to check if Elena was still there. She was not. He was left alone in the corridor.

* * *

><p>Harry sat slumped in his comfy chair, glass of whiskey in hand, deciding whether he was enjoying or not this solitary last glass, whilst watching a blank and empty grid. All the lights had been extinguished except the one in his office, but that was the way he liked it when he was in this state of depression; dark and blank, just like his thoughts. He was reasonably surprised that after using large quantities alcohol to numb the pain for a number of months now, he had not become a borderline alcoholic. But after today, he needed the strong punch of whiskey to numb his emotions into oblivion.<p>

It had been almost an hour before Harry had felt up to returning to the grid; the team seemed to suspect something was wrong due to his snappy behaviour that day, however none of them dared ask what the matter was. It was just as well, because he would not have told them. Erin had had to get home to her daughter's birthday party, and so Dimitri had taken her place as security chief at the Gavriks' hotel; Calum had found himself a date with an attractive girl from Section A. Harry had tried not to think bitterly of this, but could not help wondering why fate allowed the two officers to find each other when everyone and everything kept defying he and Ruth from being together. He took another grateful swig of whiskey, allowing it to sear his throat in place of the lump that had arisen several times during the day when he thought of the look on Ruth's face as she entered that lift.

He almost jumped when the unexpected shrill ring of his telephone sounded. He considered not bothering with it, and just continuing wallowing in his own unhappy thoughts, but then he shook himself and reached out a lazy had to answer it after the sixth ring.

"Yes?" he said dully.

"Mr Pearce?" said a familiar voice, although Harry was not too sure where exactly he had heard it before.

"Speaking." He said shortly, frowning as he allowed himself yet another gulp from the glass.

"Gerry Maynard from the front desk," the male voice by way of a reminder, to which the voice suddenly clicked in Harry's head and he nodded in realisation.

"Oh right…yes…what's wrong?"

"We had a call from a Miss Diana Jewel for you sir," Gerry continued politely, although his voice was monotonous, as if he was reading from a note he had made only a few minutes earlier. "From TRING?"

Harry's heart stopped as the place of Ruth's current location was uttered in his ear. He was instantly alert and listening, his heart hammering under his blazer. Had something happened? Was something wrong with Ruth? Was something wrong with the baby?

"Yes?" he demanded quickly, shooting up in his chair, and dropping the glass onto the table, all thoughts of drinking alcohol forgotten. "What is it?"

"It's to do with Ruth Evershed sir," he said nervously. "Something's happened."

**I'm saying _nothing_ about the next chapter- spoiler aren't allowed ) But please review and I'll update when I can xxxx**


	25. Chapter 25

**Thank you for all your reviews - they were all wonderful and they always make me smile. I'm sorry if you're tired of all the angst and for leaving it there but maybe this will be more to you liking? It's should have taken me far longer, especially with work and New Year coming up, but for some reason this story has got inside my head. I do apologise if there are loads of mistakes in this because my keyboard is broken and I need to buy a replacement one - still I really hope you enjoy this and teehee I do so love throwing curve balls :) Please review xxx**

Had Harry not been so concerned, he might have stopped to check that he was actually breathing, for in those two words, he felt sure his heard had stopped beating. He swallowed.

"What do you mean 'something's happened'?" he demanded desperately, rising to his feet subconsciously. "Is something wrong with her? Is something wrong with the baby?" He was aware that he was probably growing more and more hysterical by the minute, but this did not bother him one bit.

"Nothing like that sir," Gerry assured, although he sounded rather alarmed at Harry's sudden hysteria.

Harry still could feel his heart beating ten-fold, and was not prepared to crush all fears just yet, "Well what do you mean then?" he snapped urgently.

"Miss Jewel just wanted to check something sir." Gerry replied soothingly.

"What?" Harry snapped, his mind still littered with horrifying images of Ruth all alone in a hospital bed after losing the baby…or even, though it was almost unthinkable for fear he would break down, taking an overdose. He had to admit, after the look on her face earlier that day, and with all she had been through over the last few months, he would not blame her one bit.

"She said Ruth Evershed didn't check back into TRING after her appointment during the inquiry today sir," Gerry said, still monotonously reading from the card, despite Harry's desperation. "That she did not turn up for her sessions this afternoon or this evening…in fact, she hasn't been seen since the inquiry sir."

Harry's heart went immediately cold, and his breathing sped up in panic. "What do you mean she hasn't _turned up_?" he demanded hysterically, imagining all sorts of things, not least those same attackers capturing her and…he could not bear to think about that possibility any more. Yet he could not help but think distressingly that they had claimed they would come back again if Harry did not leave well enough alone, and he had not. "Oh God." He cried aloud as the thought of Willard and the rest of those thugs extracting their revenge.

"Sir," Gerry said, sounding particularly alarmed now, if not a little confused. "Sir, they don't think anything's happened exactly. On the contrary, Miss Jewel just wanted to know if Ruth had decided to end her stay at TRING…she wondered if she had had enough. But if so, she wants to be informed of it."

"What?" Harry whispered panicking, although slightly confused. "So no one has any idea where he is? And…and why are you asking me? How the hell do I know...I've barely seen her for the last two months? They're the ones who were meant to be taking care of her!"

"But sir," Gerry said, clearly very confused by his tone of voice. "Ms Evershed's pass is still logged in…has been since the inquiry. According to our systems, she hasn't logged out…she hasn't left the building."

"What?" Harry cried, incredibly confused, and completely overwrought.

"Being that you're still here sir," Gerry continued, apparently as puzzled as Harry was. "And considering your…personal relationship with Ms Evershed, Miss Jewel suggested contacting you…she thought you might be with Ruth, or at least know where she is. She thought…like I said…that Ruth may have checked out of treatment,"

"And left all her belongings there…you stupid man." Harry snapped harshly. He began to think fast, thinking where Ruth could possibly be in the building, and why indeed, she might still be there. "Have you considered the possibility that she might just have forgotten to log out?"

"It's impossible to get out sir without logging out with a pass…you know that sir." Gerry added, rather cheekily in retaliation to Harry's belittling comments.

Thoroughly confused, Harry frowned and tried to arrange his thoughts into some sort of logical order. "Have you tried to CCTV cameras?" he suggested desperately.

There was a silence at the other end of the phone, which told Harry that the young man had indeed not checked the cameras. He swallowed audibly and said quickly, "Checking them now sir."

The minutes he waited for Gerry to sift through the camera footage were the longest of Harry's life; he tried to take the time to calm down, relatively assured that no harm could come to Ruth whilst she was still in the building. However, he could not stop his mind from wondering why Ruth had decided to remain inside Thames House; after all, she had looked distraught after the inquiry, and as a bonus, seeing him with Elena Gavrik of all the people. He could not understand why she had not just run a mile from him…just to get as far away from him as possible, which is nothing less than he would have expected from her. After hearing him utter those terrible lies, she would surely have retreated to a place of comfort…to a place where he nor anyone else could touch her, especially knowing her craving for privacy. And that place was surely not Thames House; after all she had predominantly bad memories of this place – it had caused her the loss of many friends, George, and finally, her self-respect at the hands of the rape. There were very rare moments in which he could remember her actually being happy: that wonderful, wonderful night together, eight years ago following the EERIE exercise, almost the entire grid had visited the George for a 'liquid lunch', and Harry was struck by her beautiful smile even then, their one and only date five years ago, and then…Oh God.

A terrible, terrible thought suddenly struck Harry dumb as he forced himself to remember those exact words Ruth had spoken to him "There was that one time when you asked m out on a date…I think it might have been the happiest I ever felt.". She had been on the hospital roof at the time of her telling him that. She had claimed that being on the roof helped to calm her, knowing there was a way out. Harry prayed he was wrong, but he had an awful gut instinct that the roof of Thames House may have been exactly the place where she might have gone.

"Gerry," Harry said quickly, trying hard not to become hysterical. "You have to use your pass to log yourself onto a certain floor…which floor was Ruth last on?"

"Erm…"Gerry said listlessly and completely unhelpfully.

"Hurry up!" Harry snapped desperately.

"Alright, alright," Gerry said, unable to stop his agitation showing. There was another moment's pause before he said, "Top floor."

"Shit!" Harry cried, heading towards the door, completely forgetting to put the receiver down and knocking the entire cradle on to the floor. He hurriedly stooped to pick it up and panted, "Gerry, how long has Ruth been logged in to the top floor?"

"Erm…" Gerry said again, however thankfully not leaving out any gaps this time before he replied, "Since about half past nine this morning."

"Oh shit!" Harry cried again, running his hands over his face in fear of what he may find if he headed up to the top floor.

"Why?" Gerry said, extremely alarmed by the older man's foul language. "What's wrong? What's going on sir?"

"Gerry," Harry cried desperately. "It's December for Christ's sake…it's freezing outside. And knowing her, she'll have…"

Unwilling to waste anymore time, he slammed the telephone back in to its cradle and launched himself out of the office door, through the pods and up the steps, in very familiar sense of déjà vu.

* * *

><p>Harry panted heavily as he launched himself up the steps, but the thought of a desperately depressed Ruth and baby kept him going. He did not know what he was going to find, but he prayed it was nothing like the images that were revolving relentlessly around in his head. He had checked the top floor on his way up, but it was completely deserted, feeding his panic even more. He berated himself heavily – he should have checked she had logged out and got back to TRING safely. He should have cornered her when she caught the lift…he should have done what he was doing now and dashed up several flights of staircases to catch her and tell the truth. He should have got the floor number she was heading to. He should have told her the bloody truth in the inquiry room…he should have told everyone the whole truth. He thought desperately as he hurtled up the final flight of stairs, what use were their jobs to them if they didn't have each other?<p>

Finally, Harry reached the rooftop door and without delay shoved it open with his shoulder, careering onto the blustery rooftop. It was a large space up here, and the darkness of the city meant it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust properly. As he did so, he felt the icy wind gush against his face, stiffening his chilled skin. In those first few seconds, he allowed himself to catch his breath, producing highly visible puffs of smoke, which was a clear marker of how freezing it actually was. He moved further away from the door, careful to slide the wedge underneath it in case he needed a quick, handy exit. Harry walked slowly across the concrete tiles, eyeing every nook and cranny behind, in front of or beside him in the hope of spotting her. As everywhere he looked appeared to be completely deserted, he began the focus a little more calmly. Just because her pass was logged in did not mean she was necessarily in the building, or that she had done something stupid. She might have exited the doors whilst someone else was coming out, and thus, she would not need her pass. But then he questioned, why would she have cause to go to the top floor in the first place? Yes, perhaps she had visited the roof for a bit of peace and quiet and to calm herself earlier on, but then she left and…went for a walk to clear her head. He sighed, knowing he was making excuses for himself so that he would not worry. In order to reassure himself, Harry strode hastily over to the wall and looked over, despite knowing that had she taken that way out, there would have been a commotion outside Thames House, and both he and Gerry would surely have known. Even so, relief flooded through him when all he saw were cars whizzing past like mini ants with headlights, many feet below.

Harry turned and followed the wall around from end to end, just about to concede with relief that she was not there when he spotted something squeezed between the wall of the building and the wall of the roof. Heart pounding ten-fold once again, Harry squinted in its direction and began to charge towards it. As he closed the distance and grew nearer and nearer, he realised with a distressing jolt that the thing cuddled up against the adjoining walls was not an object but a person…a woman. Harry knew without hesitation that it was Ruth, her shoulder-length hair whipping around violently across her face, her hands clasped against her protruding stomach, and wrapped in a thin black coat. As he grew closer, fear boiled thick and fast within him as he saw that her eyes were closed lightly, as if she was sleeping, her head lolled against the wall.

"Ruth!" Harry cried in desperation, praying that she would just open her eyes; that there was nothing wrong with her, however she did not move.

Finally he reached her, flinging himself down onto the concrete, and not even registering the pain that his protesting knees elicited. Shaking with fear and desperation, Harry wasted a second trying to gather in his mind a thought process that would help him identify if she was alright, or even if she was alive. He automatically reached out a hand to still her flapping hair, and with the other searched desperately for a pulse. As soon as his fingers made contacts with her neck, his instinct was to pull away, as she was indescribably icy to the touch, with her skin just as freezing as the wind hammering against them. Welcoming warmth suddenly hit Harry's cheeks and he withdrew one hand to check how such a thing had occurred and felt the wetness of his tears against his cheeks. Dismissing them as unimportant, he left them and tried to channel all of his fear into determination, desperately trying to concentrate on finding a pulse. He could not find one – no matter how long he focussed he just could not find one.

"No." he whispered hysterically, half to himself and half to Ruth. "No…Ruth…this isn't it." He automatically pressed his hand harder to her pulse point, unable to take in the fact that she had gone. He studied her pale, freezing face, her slightly parted mouth and still form and fury took its course. Unable to prevent himself he reached out a hand and slapped her hard on the cheek, hoping to gauge some sort of response. "Don't you dare give up." He whispered angrily, aware that his tears had slid off his chin and were dropping fast onto Ruth's coat. "Don't you dare."

He slapped two fingers to her pulse point once again even though he knew that virtually all hope was lost. She had been up here in the freezing cold for near enough fourteen hours, and no one had even realised. Harry was about to pull away from her when he felt it – an unmistakable beat. It was so very faint it was hardly noticeable unless you were concentrating extremely hard.

"Ruth sweetheart," Harry whispered to her, shaking her gently, some form of hope rekindled. As if from some subconscious part of her brain, Ruth realised Harry was searching for some sort of physical reaction, she suddenly shivered. In all honesty, it was more of a small spasm in reaction to how cold she was, but it was enough for Harry. Tears now streaming uncontrollably down his face, he pulled her freezing form to him, trying to eke some of his warmth into her, and he kissed the top of her head tenderly. "Good girl." He whispered, not caring that she could not hear him, and indeed, it might have been better that she could not, for no one had ever seen the great Harry Pearce in such a state of overwhelming emotion. "It's alright Ruth," he sobbed quietly, wondering who he was trying to convince more. "You're going to be alright."

Harry promised himself in that minute that the moment Ruth opened her eyes, he was going to tell her everything; no matter what this inquiry, or the Home Secretary or anyone else thought, they were going to get their happy ending. He cradled her for a few more seconds before coming to his senses and realising that they were still on the Thames House rooftop. Perfectly aware that Ruth could not walk in this state, and desperate to get her into the warm, Harry took a deep breath and ignoring the protests of his back and knees, lifted her into his arms so that her head now lay in the crook of his neck. Harry walked as fast as he could to the door and down the steps, with her added weight in his arms, and felt an overwhelming amount of relief when he reached the warmth of the lift. He placed her down gently on to the floor, and tried to decide what his best course of action would be, eventually deciding to take her to his office where he could find some blankets to wrap around her warmly whilst he called Gerry.

Finally they reached the grid and Harry placed Ruth as gently as he could onto the couch in the corner of his office, without his back giving out. He reached for his thick coat on the stand near the door and carefully positioned it over her temporarily whilst he called Gerry. Thankfully the young man at the front desk did not take long to pick up.

"Front desk?" his voice came down the line, infuriatingly calm.

"Harry Pearce," Harry snapped to try and shake Gerry into some sort of order. It seemed to work.

"Oh yes," Gerry swallowed. "Did you find her sir?"

"Yes I bloody have," Harry growled, still wiping away any residual traces of tears. "She was outside, unconscious on the roof for near enough fourteen hours."

"Shit." Gerry whispered in shock, not suspecting that there was actually something seriously wrong.

"If she's not seen to quickly she could catch her death of pneumonia," Harry growled, trying not to think about the repercussions this would have on the baby. "I want you to call the medical room and get the person on duty to come down to my office now."

"Sorry sir," Gerry said, sounding genuinely grievous. "The med-bay is off duty from ten o'clock."

"Then call an ambulance to get here immediately!" Harry snapped.

"On it now sir," Gerry agreed.

Before the young man could ring off Harry added, "And contact Erin Watts to tell her that she'll be running things on the grid tomorrow – I won't be coming in."

"Right sir." Gerry answered and quickly put the phone down to call for the ambulance.

Harry slammed his own phone back into its cradle and looked over at Ruth who was now shivering silently but violently on the sofa. The only consolation Harry could think of to this was that at least the shivering was showing that she was still alive and fighting. He quickly jogged out of the office and over to the supply room, searching through box upon box until he found some rather dusty tartan blankets. He then dashed over to the kitchenette to fetch the first-aid kit before hurrying back into the office. Perching on the arm of the couch, Harry removed the pathetic warmth his coat was providing, opened the first-aid kit and wrapped the rather under-budget electric blanket around Ruth tightly, then placing the two tartan blankets over her for additional warmth. He kissed the top of her head lightly; stroking her hair and whispering words of love and comfort to her unconscious form until the ambulance arrived.

* * *

><p>Harry sat slumped in yet another white plastic chair in another corridor, in the same hospital in which he had visited Ruth nearly three months ago. The difference was that last time he was waiting to see what damage others had provided her; this time he was waiting to see what had happened at her own hand. It did absolutely nothing for his guilt levels realising that Ruth had tried to end it all, admittedly via a rather unconventional route, but none-the-less what she had seen earlier that day was probably the last straw that made her think of it. He pushed back his sleeve and saw with mild surprise that it was actually ten past six the following morning, so in reality, it had all happened yesterday.<p>

Again, Harry had sat in the ambulance with Ruth, holding her hand whilst the paramedics asked unhelpful questions like 'Why was she outside for this length of time?' and 'Do you think she did this intentionally?'. How the hell did he know? Harry had absolutely no idea what was going through Ruth's head at the time, but he knew what had caused it, and he knew that she must have suffered unbelievable depression. He tried very hard not to get upset at the thought of Ruth at TRING with many people who had been driven mad by the job, when she was not mad…not even in the slightest. If he had known she was so depressed he would never have abandoned her without contact for so long; but one foolish part of him had been convinced that she might have been helped at TRING. But as Adam Carter had proved, TRING did not help the depressed and the grieving – they had to find their own way out.

Hypothermia. Ruth had within the fourteen hours on the rooftop, developed a moderate form of hypothermia, which according to the doctor on duty at the time she was diagnosed, was a good sign. He had claimed that she was lucky, but Harry found that he could not really fit the word 'lucky' in a sentence with Ruth. At Harry expressing concerns about the baby, they had conducted an ultrasound, which he had not been allowed to attend in case there was something wrong and his distress might disturb Ruth, thus causing her condition to worsen. However, they had concluded that the baby was also lucky and appeared to be doing fine, despite the fact that both it and Ruth were quite undernourished. This explained Harry's thoughts that Ruth had looked rather unwell at the inquiry. The doctor had also told him that the baby was at such a stage they could inform him of its gender, to which Harry, though curious, had refused, wanting Ruth's permission and presence for him to find out.

Harry had been forced to wait outside until the doctor had finished running tests and making sure that Ruth was comfortable, as in his words 'the next few hours were critical', particularly since rewarming someone after they had been particularly cold was sometimes dangerous. Thankfully, nothing like that had gone wrong, and Harry had been assured that in a few minutes he could go in and see the woman he loved, although she would still be asleep. He did not mind for watching Ruth sleep had always been a pleasure – it reminded him of that one night together, during which she had slept peacefully, looking so beautiful with her hair splayed out on the pillows and with that adorable smile fixed on her face.

He jumped suddenly as his phone went off without warning, buzzing away in his breast pocket. He removed it quickly and placed it to his ear, raising an apologetic look to anyone passing for its loud ringing.

"Harry Pearce." He said tiredly.

"Harry where are you?" Harry sighed, hearing Tower's agitated tone at the other end of the line. "Please don't tell me you're enjoying fifty more winks in bed. You're supposed to be meeting me now in my office to evaluate the inquiry and the situation with the Gavriks'."

"I'm not in bed Home Secretary." Harry replied quietly, wishing that he was and that none of this had happened.

"Well where the hell are you then?" Towers snapped.

"I'm at the hospital Home Secretary." Harry growled.

"What? Why are you at the hospital?"

"Because last night Ruth Evershed tried to kill herself." The cold reality of him actually saying it was overwhelming for Harry, and he felt tears welling up in his eyes once more.

"Oh God," Towers groaned over the phone. "Not again. Harry don't give the inquiry any more ammo to fire at you. Just forget the woman for onc-"

Harry seethed, unable to stop his anger anymore at hearing Towers sound so unsympathetic with Ruth's condition, and he snapped, "No Home Secretary – _you_ forget it."

With that, and not caring one little bit that he had probably just thrown his career away, Harry ended the call, turning his phone off and shoving it back into his pocket. As the minutes passed, he was not surprised to find that he was not the slightest bit regretful about what he had just said to the British Home Secretary, although he knew that he was only trying to save his career. Yet Harry honestly was not bothered about his career anymore, and he was most certainly not about to become Tower's lapdog. Someone else could have a go with all that responsibility, he thought miserably, because he had had enough of it.

The door to Ruth's room suddenly opened and a doctor exited towards him. It was not the same doctor as before, Harry noted, but that was probably because the one before had been on night duty. Harry launched himself to his feet immediately to meet the considerably younger doctor than before. As the man approached, Harry thought briefly that the young doctor looked no older than Dimitri.

"Mr Pearce?" the young man checked, and Harry provided a brisk nod. "You're welcome to go in now if you want to."

"Is she going to be alright?" Harry asked desperately, not moving muscle until he had confirmation that he was not going to lose her or the baby.

The young doctor raised a smile, "She'll be fine," he nodded. "A couple of hour's ago she started to develop a fever but we've successfully managed to bring that down. "Just in case we performed another ultrasound for the foetus but everything seem to be fine at the moment. When she wakes up I'll arrange for another one so that we are a hundred percent sure that there have been no side effects for the baby." Harry nodded, knowing Ruth would probably want confirmation of this when she regained consciousness. "The only thing I should say," the doctor continued. "Is that when she comes round, she may feel a little bit disorientated, and with the lateness in pregnancy, I wouldn't be surprised if there was a little bit of nausea as well."

"Right." Harry said grimly.

"All in all," the young man smiled, drawing his clipboard to his chest. "I would say she's doing well and is exceptionally lucky."

There was that word again, Harry thought, 'lucky'. If this young man knew what she had gone through over the last five months, he most definitely would not be calling her lucky. Yet Harry smiled as the young doctor moved past him to travel down the corridor to attend to his other patients.

"Thank you." Harry smiled gratefully, placing his hand on the door handle and entering.

Just as before, as Harry entered her room tentatively so as not to wake her up, and travelled over to the bed in which she lay fast asleep. Unlike last time, the room was not blowing cool air from the ventilator above, presumably in a bid to keep Ruth as warm as possible in her current state. He sat in the arm chair situated on her right hand side, and studied her closely, taking her hand in his. He was exceptionally grateful that they were a great deal warmer than they had been before, however he noted that her skin was still pale and ill-looking. She was curled on her side facing him, a saline drip once again connected to her hand, yet as she lay there peacefully Harry thought she still looked beautiful. Her baby bump protruded outwards, clearly visible through the thin hospital gown, and Harry took the opportunity to notice that all the cuts, bruising and swelling that had been clearly visible last time they were here, had disappeared almost completely.

His eyes travelled once again up her body, passing over her baby bump until he reached her sleeping face. "Oh Ruth," he whispered wretchedly, squeezing her hand gently. "Sweetheart, you were never meant for this." He forced a fresh wave of tears down as he spotted a pile of hot water bottles and electric blankets in the corner of the room, discarded now that she was apparently on the mend. "That sweet, I admit, a little naïve woman who stumbled into that meeting room all those years ago…dropping half of those files on the floor…before looking right at me with that…winner smile – she was never meant for this." He slid his fingers through her tiny ones and stroked her face softly with the other hand. "I promise you that if I had known that…everything was going to happen…that you were going to end up like this and…and this depressed…I would have ordered you to march straight back out of that room." Harry could not prevent the silent tears from dripping now, as he traced her forehead gently with his fingers. "Because…and I'm not just being biased here Ruth…you deserve to be happy…probably more than any of us. You are a born spook…but you weren't born to suffer like this." He thought a little more before trying to brave a smile, even though he knew Ruth could not hear him. "I know we've both suffered for that night Ruth," he whispered gently. "But I would never ever take any of it back. When you wake up everything's going to be alright…and you know I'm a cynic not an idealist so it must be true." He snorted feebly. "But you're going to be okay…I promise."

With that, Harry reached up, kissed her forehead gently and stroked a hand through her hair one last time, before retreating to his seat to hold her hand properly.

* * *

><p>A number of hours later, Harry had drifted off to sleep, still with his hand entwined with Ruth's, head resting on the mattress, the whiskey still remaining in his system finally contributing towards his tiredness. So much so, he was not immediately aware of the woman beside him stirring slightly against the pillows. Firstly her closed eyes twitched and fluttered open briefly, but deciding the light was too bright for her sore head, immediately closed them again. Deciding she felt too warm and comfortable wherever she was, Ruth made up her mind to go back to sleep, but was suddenly aware of something heavy holding her right hand. Reluctantly, she forced her eyes open for a second time to try and glimpse the reason for the added weight on her hand, taking a few seconds for her eyes to adjust.<p>

Squinting around the room, she became aware of plain, immaculate white walls, and a mobile table hovering a few feet away from her legs. In an attempt to focus her mind and gather where exactly she was, she listened intently and picked up a series of small bleeps and guzzling noises, sounding from her right hand side. Very painfully, trying to remember a time when she had felt as poorly as this, she turned her head slightly to look in the direction of the guzzling noise and recognised the machine that hung above her, a small pouch of pouch of clear liquid feeding into a tube which no doubt eventually connected to her hand. A note of panic struck within her as it finally began to dawn on her where exactly she was, and the sound of beds being constantly wheeled past and doctors shouting at the tops of their voices banged through her aching head. Frowning against the thumping in her head, her breathing faster and more panicked, she followed the wire down from the machine to her hand, where her breathing caught in surprise. The source of the heaviness in her hand suddenly became apparent as she stared at the large hand on top of hers. It was cradling her hand gently, carefully avoiding the needle, and again. Ruth turned her head to try and glimpse its owner.

Harry was lying with his head placed upon the mattress, fast asleep, and snoring only lightly so as not to disturb her. She was about to smile at how peaceful he looked when she asked herself the question why he was here, and more to the point, why she was here. And then it hit her…everything all at once: the night with Harry, the inquiry, the pregnancy, Elena and Sasha, the rape, Harry and Willard, TRING, Harry telling the inquiry the truth, him and Elena together and then finally, the roof. It became too much, as a complete sense of overwhelming grief hit her hard and she was powerless to reel it all back; she looked between the baby bump and Harry several times before she began to sob helplessly. Ruth realised distressingly that somehow she had been found and had not been allowed to follow through with her peaceful way out, and she sobbed even harder. She tried to move her right hand to wipe away some of the stray tears and that, coupled with her loud, wracking sobs finally seemed to alert Harry.

His head shot up from the mattress as his brain recognised the sobs of distress, and he hurriedly tried to focus his eyes enough to take in what was going on. Ruth had apparently woken up and was weeping in distress and confusion on the bed next to him. Immediately, Harry removed his hand from hers, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling her gently into his arms, cradling her tenderly as she cried. Surprisingly, she made no effort to pull away, and instead sobbed grievously into his shirt whilst Harry whispered gentle words of comfort into her ear.

"It's alright sweetheart," he hushed her. "It's aright…you're alright now…everything's going to be okay. You're in St. Anne's hospital…you're going to be fine."

He whispered it on and off like a mantra as she cried, stroking her hair and kissing her forehead as time continued to pass. When she stopped for a minute, seemingly about to calm down, her eyes then screwed tightly shut against the painful images in her mind, setting her off yet again and Harry continued to rock her gently as if she was the most precious thing in the world.

After what seemed like an age, Ruth began to quieten, releasing spasmodic hiccups into Harry's now damp shirt, until she became silent. Still, she did not attempt to pull away, simply allowing herself to be rocked and cradled against his heaving chest, and Harry took this as a good sign. On the one hand, he was reluctant to destroy the moment, especially after so long of wanted to touch and hold her, however he had promised himself that he would explain everything, so he moved his head down to whisper gently in her ear.

"What you heard yesterday Ruth," he felt her tense slightly. "What you heard at the inquiry was a complete and utter lie." To prove his point, he eased away from her gently and lifted her chin so that she could see the truth in his eyes. Her eyes were filled with desperation and hope at what he was saying; he continued to stare back at her in nothing but love and adoration. "I know you're afraid you don't know what to believe anymore," he continued quietly. "But I promise you that they were all lies…lies I allowed Towers to persuade me to tell in order to save both of our careers." He continued to stare honestly at the woman he loved for a few more seconds before saying, "I could never regret that night Ruth…even though we were both completely unprepared for the outcome…I could never think it was a mistake. And our baby certainly could never be construed as a mistake…it was unexpected…but not unwelcome. I didn't go there as your boss, but as the man who was and still is head over heels in love with you."

Ruth now stared at him with such a naked vulnerability he was almost unable to bear it, but he could tell that she knew he was now speaking truthfully, as a different man to the one who inhabited the grid day after day…as the man who held her so tenderly that night and told her he loved her. So he continued: "And when you saw me with Elena…I'll say it again…there is nothing going on between us Ruth…nothing. She came to me because she had received another message from my impersonator." He would not go into details with her about that just yet. Finally, he came to the bit which he had so desperately wanted to tell her for all those months, "And that day when I was interrogating Willard…I am so very sorry for you thinking that I would ever do that to you…because I wouldn't. I would never let anything like that happen to you or the baby Ruth, and I especially would never do it to you. I can't bring myself to say I'm sorry for breaking the man's nose though, because after what he did to you…I'm afraid I couldn't really hold that back. Plus…you've known me for years sweetheart," he whispered gently, aware that her eyes were watering once again. "You know what I'm capable of in this job…I've killed people…but I've never once behaved that way to you…nor will I ever…"

"I know." Ruth suddenly said hoarsely, and heartbreakingly quietly, but still with her eyes fixed desperately on him. Harry stared at her in utter love as she whispered, "At…while I was at…TRING…I had lots of time to…to think…and I came to realise that you would never…" she trailed off, suddenly embarrassed and looking down and Harry pulled her once again into his embrace.

Harry held her in his arms for a couple more minutes before she whispered despondently, "How did you find me?"

He sighed, never really wanting to remember the last twelve hours as long as he lived. "Diana Jewel wanted to know if you were checking out of treatment because you hadn't turned up. The front desk rang up wanting to know if you were with me because you were still in the building, and then…I remembered what you said about…feeling free on the roof…that you felt the happiest when I asked you to dinner that day. So I went up and…and you gave me the fright of my life."

Harry suddenly became aware that his shirt was dampening once again, and that Ruth was releasing yet more tears. "I…I'm so sorry," she whispered unhappily. "I'm so sorry…I've made a mess o…of everything."

Harry held her tighter and kissed her forehead several times to emphasise his point, "You haven't made a mess of anything sweetheart. You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for."

"I nearly…k…killed our ba…baby." She cried.

"But you didn't," Harry soothed her. "They ran tests…it's absolutely fine…a fighter just like it's mother."

He rocked her for a few more minutes before being unable to stop himself asking the question he so desperately wanted to ask. "Why did you do it Ruth?" he asked gently, no accusatory tone in his voice, just curiosity.

He stroked her hair and back gently whilst she tried to communicate an answer. It took several attempts for her to actually open her mouth before she whispered sadly, "Everything just got…got too overwhelming I suppose. The…the attack…I couldn't…I still can't get it out of my head, and then there was remembering that Tariq was just…just the youngest of so many…friends that…" she sniffed and took and deep breath, Harry still holding her patiently. "then there was W…Willard and TRING…I went there because…I suppose I wanted to escape…but being there they…they treat you a if you're mad…and you're surrounded by people who've been driven m…mad by the job and…and I was given pills for depression when I wasn't mad. I'm _not_ mad Harry." She declared quietly, as if to justify herself to him, but there was no need.

"No you're not." He said firmly, horrified by the coarse treatment she had been provided at TRIG, but saying no more so that she could finish her difficult explanation.

"I…I then…yesterday…when I heard you say…those things…" Harry closed his eyes as he finally knew for sure that he was partly responsible for her attempt. "And…and I admit I…I was jealous…when I saw you and Elena I thought…well…I thought about you talking about us being a family…of having a life together and I thought…I thought I had lost that forever. I know you'll hate me for being weak and…stupid but I…I couldn't quite…face the thought of raising the…the child…alone…and I got so confused and…and…"

"You thought of the roof." Harry finished, and felt Ruth nod ashamedly into his chest. He felt the tears coming on again and he thought fast of a way to lighten her spirits. "But…just as in our typical, resourceful Ruth-like way, you didn't exactly choose the most obvious way out did you?" he said lightly, and was relieved to feel her smile slightly against him.

"There's…there's too much blood spilt in our job," she said, her voice muffled against him. "It's just…it's the way I'd choose…going out quietly rather than…causing everyone and big…hassle."

Harry's heart almost broke again right there, at hearing Ruth's consideration for everyone else coming first before herself yet again, even in death, and he held her even tighter, inexplicably glad that he was still here under his hands.

"I'm sorry sweetheart," he whispered, kissing her firmly on the forehead. "But _I_ wasn't ready to lose you yet."

Ruth sniffed once more, "I'm so sorry…you must think I'm such a coward for…"

"No." Harry said firmly, prising her away to look into her eyes, to emphasise his point. "Ruth, I could never…what did you say? Hate you? I could never hate you! And I could never hate you for feeling so depressed. I don't care whether you think you're strong or weak. I love you because you're so inexplicably _you_."

"I regretted it," Ruth said suddenly, as if now feeling the complete need to justify herself and her actions, despite Harry's warning looks. "I regretted it because as soon…as soon as I realised what I was doing…I realised I…I love my baby…I didn't want it to d…die. But I…I couldn't seem to get up…I was too c…cold."

"You're being treated for hypothermia." Harry whispered gently, although for some reason incredibly relieved Ruth had told him this. "You've been very poorly over the last few hours…but you're going to be fine."

Ruth looked desperately at him for a few more moments before Harry was unable to take it and he lowered his head down slowly, showing her his intention was to kiss her. She did not object and she allowed him to place a chaste kiss on her lips, but it still made her pale cheeks flush.

"I should never have allowed you to go to TRING." Harry whispered quietly, his face inches from hers. "And if I had known you were that depressed I would never have abandoned you for so long."

They spent another few minutes in complete contented silence, enjoying the feeling of being so close once again, before Ruth lowered her eyes to the floor and whispered, "I don't want to go back to TRING Harry."

Harry kissed her forehead gently and tightened his arms around her even further, "You're not going to." He said determinedly, but also added with a hint of a question in his voice. "You're going to come back home with me?"

Ruth stiffened suddenly ad Harry wondered fearfully whether he had gone too far when she said, "We can't Harry…we can't…be together." There was a tone of sudden distressing realisation in her voice, almost as if her hopes had come crashing down, and she seemed to be on the verge of tears again. "The inquiry…they'll fire you…they'll fire both of us…you've fought so hard for your career-"

"Funny how something like this can make you realise just what's important-" Harry said with a hint of irony.

"Harry…"

"I've had enough of this job Ruth…I've been doing it for thirty years and…and it's all so worthless when the woman you love is in a hospital bed because of it."

"Harry…"

"I'm extremely sure Ruth." He said firmly. "Besides, the Home Secretary rang me earlier and in all honesty, I was less than polite to him so I think we can quite truthfully say that I'll be out of a job before the week is out."

"Harry," Ruth said aghast, tears beginning to drip down her cheeks again. "I'm so sorry…this is all my fault."

"Ruth if you think that," Harry said gently, but warningly. "Then I actually am going to send you back to TRING."

Ruth looked doubtful and still looked extremely tense, tears continuing to flow, so Harry, feeling he was taking a huge risk, patted the bed and said, "Budge up."

Ruth stared at him in surprise for a moment, before to Harry's equal astonishment, she shuffled herself as best she could further to the left hand side of the bed. Harry promptly, lifted himself onto the bed, settled against the headboard next to her, always mindful of the drip tube in her hand and pulled her into his arms.

"You have nothing to feel guilty about sweetheart," he whispered as in the haze of her exhaustion and confusion, she snuggled herself into his chest. "Before, you were depressed and I was depressed…this is the right decision. I don't care what the inquiry says about this but…but I want our… happy ending." He did not care if he sounded like the lead softy in a God-awful Disney movie in that moment – not when he had just been reunited with the two most important people in his life.

"It's just as well," Ruth whispered, sounding more sure of herself now that she was firmly wrapped in Harry's embrace. "If I've checked myself out of TRING…then I suppose I'm out of a job as well…it was one of the terms to come back to the grid."

He felt her smile against him, and he looked down at her, desperate to see that gorgeous smile. He caught a glimpse of it and even more importantly, there was a flash of the bright blue twinkle that had long since been lost in her eyes. He looked at how close they were together, something he never thought they would have after the rape and he felt ecstatically happy.

"Harry." She whispered, sounding nervous all of a sudden and he stroked her hair in reply. "We don't…we don't really know each other." As he released her gently and she looked up at him, seeing the confusion, she added anxiously. "I mean…we do but…we…"

Harry shushed her gently by placing another kiss on her forehead, still glad that he was able to do so without her flinching anymore. "Ms Evershed, I would like to…have dinner with you and…properly get to know you." He said, wishing his fifty-seven year old self was as good at asking women out as his twenty-year old self had been.

Ruth looked suddenly frightened and Harry squeezed her hand, the gesture to which he knew she was most likely to respond. She glanced down at her body, and then at her protruding stomach, before her eyes travelled down to the spot between her legs, and Harry immediately understood. He had, in the midst of his happiness at having Ruth back in his arms; temporarily forgotten about the effects of the rape; that physical contact and especially…sexual contact might still alarm her.

"Not like that." He said gently, squeezing her hand once again. "Not like that…not until you're good and ready." As she visibly relaxed, Harry kissed the top of her head. "Just…dinner. Is that alright?"

He felt Ruth nod against him, but could also tell from her slowly evened out breathing that she was gradually lulling into the depths of sleep, still completely exhausted. So he said nothing, only holding her gently as she drifted off, happier than he had been in a long time, a hope for the future rekindled.

**I hope you liked that. But just so you know, they can't relax just yet, because people are still out to get them, and there's loads more left that they have to get through. In case I don't update before New Year, Happy New Year to you all for then! This is the longest chapter I've written so far! Next chapter I'm guessing is going to be something along the lines of a baby scan (I'm open to whether they should find out the gender now or not or at the birth), or a plot based thing involving Coaver and Willard, or a HR date...not sure which way to go but it might b a while before the next update. Please review xxx**


	26. Chapter 26

**So so sorry for the lack of update - if only real life wasn't so busy. It also took me a while to decide what exactly was going to happen in this chapter as my story route has changed slightly, but it means that I have a really good idea where I'm going with this from now on; I even have an ending for you. Anyway, sorry for the fact that very little happens in this -it's mainly just a filler in preparation for the next chapter - but I hope you like it anyway. I have to say,it's probably a lot fluffier than a lot of my chapters. However, I promise the action starts next chapter. Please review - I'd love to know what you think xxx**

Harry, who felt so right and extremely comfortable with Ruth lying snuggled into his side, was just about nodding off himself when a timid knock sounded from the door. Ruth stirred only slightly, and Harry stroked her hair a couple more times to ensure she kept on sleeping, certain that only rest could restore her health now. He frowned, and sat up on the bed a little straighter, aware that he probably should not be on the bed with Ruth, but also quite sure that neither the doctors nor nurses knocked before entering rooms in their own hospital. The tentative knock sounded once more before the door swung open quietly and the offender popped his head hesitantly round the door.

"Dimitri," Harry said in surprise as he recognised the young man. Gently, he shifted Ruth away from him and settled her head onto the pillow before climbing off the bed. "What are you doing here?"

Dimitri, who looked both relieved that he had found the right room, and surprised at the image of affection that had just been displayed to him, opened the door wider so that Harry could pass through to continue the conversation in the corridor, without disturbing Ruth. As he closed the door carefully behind him Dimitri said:

"You've had your phone switched off – no one could get hold of you."

"Well frankly, I've had enough of politicians and senior officers telling me how to lead my life," Harry said shortly, thinking back to Towers' none-too-sympathetic view on him comforting Ruth at the hospital. "I've been allowing that to happen for thirty years. This is me saying bollox to the whole lot of it."

"I know about that," Dimitri said, suddenly looking rather nervous. At Harry's querying gaze he continued, "Pretty much as soon as I got in this morning, we had a phone call from – to put it politely – a slightly peeved Home Secretary."

"Ah." Harry said, although he was not feeling quite as sheepish as he sounded.

"Yeah," Dimitri sighed. "Apparently you were less than short with him. He was muttering on about rats leaving sinking ships and being the captain of the Titanic."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Harry could not help but smirk slightly at that analogy, "I've never heard him use that one before." he mused quietly, and Dimitri could not help but raise half a smile as well. However, only a few short seconds later, his expression turned solemn and Harry could see there was more to his visit than to deliver a simple message like that.

"Harry…"Dimitri said hesitantly, as if not quite sure how to phrase what was coming. Harry, who had a fair idea what was coming, waited patiently. Dimitri eventually took a deep breath and said seriously, "When the Home Secretary's not happy…people notice. Less than an hour later…well…the top had heard about it, as had the inquiry panel…they assumed that since you were here with Ruth, and refusing to leave her side…well…they assumed that you've been telling a huge pack of lies in the tribunal, and as per usual they need to 'discuss how to deal with you'."

Harry nodded, not surprised and his expression consisted almost of indifference, "So?"

"So," Dimitri sighed again. "They've ordered you onto a temporary suspension."

"Oh no, not again." Harry said sarcastically, raising his eyebrows in mock horror. He was actually mildly disappointed that they had not let him go altogether – after all, he had used up enough chances.

"Harry." Dimitri said, a little irritated by his boss's inability to take any of this seriously, and Harry must have sensed this for his face softened slightly, and he nodded for the younger man to continue. "Harry they've…they've suspended Ruth as well."

Harry felt his face drain of colour as soon as the statement left Dimitri's lips. He felt dread bubble within him at the thought that his insubordination this morning may have cost Ruth her job; a job which despite everything, he knew she still loved. Dimitri shot him a sympathetic look, having suspected that Ruth's suspension might sober him quickly.

"Permanently?" Harry asked hoarsely, as he considered how Ruth would react to losing her job. She had been airy about the possibility a few hours ago, before she had fallen asleep, but when the reality of the fact that she had, until further notice, been fired hit her later, he suspected that she would be rather upset.

Dimitri sighed and shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know…it's just what I've been told to inform you." Harry observed the young man before him, who was clearly uncomfortable at being used as a messenger boy, especially when the message he was delivering was quite clearly from the side he disagreed with. He felt a rush of gratitude towards Dimitri that even now, he was loyal to his friends rather than his job, even though Harry had to admit that a few years ago, he would had steadfastly denied the use of friends in MI5. He recalled a conversation of a similar context that he had had with Ruth, many years ago now, and…well…their bond had developed into so much more than just friendship. Harry smiled reassuringly at Dimitri.

"Don't worry about it," he said gratefully. "Thank you for telling us."

He expected the young man to give a brief, gruff nod before turning and fleeing in the opposite direction, however Dimitri remained fixed to the spot, staring intently at him. After a beat he voiced what was on his mind.

"Did Ruth…I mean…did she really try to…to…" He stopped, unable to even finish the sentence without shuddering at the very thought of it. His mind was filled with the image of a few minutes ago; Ruth lying quite peacefully, snuggled into Harry's side – he found the fact that she had tried to kill herself less than twenty-four hours previously, hard to believe.

Harry clicked his tongue; it obviously being a subject he would rather not discuss, however eventually he assessed that Dimitri had in recent months become a trusted friend to both of them and he nodded mutely.

Dimitri sighed, "Shit." He whispered. "I…I know she'd been through a heck of a lot but…well…I didn't realise she was so…unhappy."

"Neither did I Dimitri," Harry replied sadly, as images of her still form on the roof came helplessly to mind. "Neither did I."

Dimitri looked automatically at door to Ruth's room where she was thankfully still sleeping, "Is…is she alright?" he asked concernedly, embarrassed at having not seen the earlier signs, but comforted only by the fact that Harry had not either. "I mean…is she going to be alright?"

Harry sighed, "Before she was brought in she was in she was on the roof of Thames House for near enough fourteen hours, in the freezing cold." Dimitri raised his eyebrows in shock and looked pitifully at Ruth's door again. "As the Doctor's say, she was lucky to escape with just a mild form of hyperthermia."

"But is she _really_ going to be alright?" Dimitri demanded, and Harry knew immediately what the younger man was asking.

Harry raised the corner of his mouth in an ever so slight smile, "You know…I think she will be Dimitri." Dimitri looked deeply thankful for this answer and could not help but raise a smile in return. Harry continued, "Tomorrow I'm going to take her back home with me, regardless of what that damn inquiry says. Right now she needs all the care and attention people can give her and believe me, she's not going to get that at Tring. Can you make the arrangements to sign her out and pick up her thi-"

"Of course." Dimitri replied automatically, extremely touched at seeing the openness of Harry's feelings towards the woman he loved. "I'll do it as soon as I get off the Grid today."

Harry nodded gratefully, and there was a respectful silence between the pair of them before Dimitri continued.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner…you know…to find out how she is. I didn't get off with the Gavrik's until one o'clock this morning, and then I had to be on the grid for eight so then I foun-"

"Really Dimitri," Harry said smiling, raising a hand to silence the young man, before placing it somewhat awkwardly on Dimitri's shoulder. "I'm grateful you've come at all…there aren't many people right now who would considering the amount of trouble Ruth and I are already in."

Dimitri looked surprised at the grand gesture of friendship from his old boss, but tried to force a smile instead, "For the record it's not true." At Harry's questioning frown he continued. "I reckon there are a great deal of people on the grid who think a lot of both you and Ruth…they all want you both to be happy and…I'll admit… happy together." Harry could not help but raise an even wider smile at this. "It's just the miserable old geezer's in their shiny offices above that want to cause trouble."

Harry snorted, "I had the opportunity to become one of those…how did you put it…'miserable old geezer's' once." He said, recalling the time he had enlisted Ruth to help prepare him for that particular interview. Of course, he could have got someone…anyone else to do it – perhaps Sam, but he would not have had it any other way. "But let's just say I failed admirably."

"Did you fail it deliberately?" Dimitri asked, curiosity getting the better of him, but having a nagging feeling that his boss might possibly have done this to avoid the position.

"No." Harry admitted. "I wasn't enough like a politician, that's all. Still, if I had received the position I would have turned it down anyway."

Dimitri caught the way Harry's eyes moved subconsciously towards Ruth's door as he uttered the words 'turned it down anyway', and he knew immediately the reason why he would have turned down the position.

"I'll do my best to get you and Ruth back as soon as possible." Dimitri said loyally, and was mot surprised when Harry shook his head.

"Don't," the older man said firmly. "Believe me, I've certainly had enough of this job to last me a lifetime. I think after thirty years of service, and the fact that I'm possibly going to be dismissed without a pension, that gives me the right to retire in whatever way seems fit. There's only one way I would choose to spend my retirement, and I could have lost it all last night."

Dimitri stared at Harry sadly for a moment, as he realised that Harry leaving MI5 for good would mean the end of an era; he was well aware that he had only worked under Harry for two years but in this job, two years bring a heck of a lot of memories. "What about Ruth?" he asked quietly. "Do you think she would want to come back?"

Harry sighed, "Of course she would want to. She loves this job, regardless of it's done to her." He could not help the bitter expression that wiped across his face for a moment as he thought about Ruth's suffering over the recent years. "But the humiliation this inquiry is going to put her through and…after…after carrying her boss's child." He smiled sadly. "Somehow, I doubt she could bear to face it all. She's been through enough." Harry finished, hoping he had made the right decision for her.

Dimitri nodded, "I'll try my hardest for her anyway…just in case."

Harry nodded back gratefully, "Thank you Dimitri…I can't really…thank you enough for all you've done for us."

Dimitri lowered his head and shuffled his feet awkwardly, quite discomforted by Harry's outward display of gratitude and affection. A thought suddenly came to his mind and his head rose up again cautiously.

"Harry," he said slowly. "If you're not there, what do we do about Ruth's attackers? I mean…are they still off the drawing board or…"

"Oh don't you worry about that." Harry answered firmly. "I don't intend to spend these next few weeks doing nothing whilst the inquiry deliberate how best to fire me. Besides, now that I'm out, they can't berate me for trying to find out who hurt someone I care about."

"Yeah, but doesn't the fact that you're out of MI5 temporarily make you vulnerable to all kinds of trouble if you…take your own revenge?" Dimitri finished enigmatically, but they both knew what he was thinking.

Harry shrugged, "I didn't become a spook for nothing." He reprimanded the young man slightly. "I'm hardly going to leave fingerprints and a big calling card saying 'it was Harry Pearce' am I?"

Dimitri smiled slightly at Harry's caustic wit, but they could both tell that what Harry was thinking of was a great deal more sinister than he was letting on.

"About Coaver." Dimitri said slowly, wondering if he was going to regret offering this to Harry. "I…made a promise…to help you bring him in and find out what part he's playing in this…mess."

"Dimitri," Harry said, raising a hand, albeit gratefully, but firmly. "I have already ruined mine and Ruth's careers – there is no need to mess up yours as well." His eyes darkened. "I'll deal with Coaver."

"And I'll help." Dimitri answered resolutely in a tone that broached no arguments. "I made a promise that I don't intend to go back on it."

"Dimitri-" Harry tried again, intending to berate him about foolish loyalty, however he was cut off once more.

"Probably my best friend _and_ mentor since I've arrived on the grid was violently attacked, and an innocent young man who was also my friend was killed in a particularly vicious way, so I don't intend to let that slide." Dimitri said stubbornly. "And if I get fired…well hey…maybe I'll get to live a little longer."

Harry opened his mouth, about to refuse the young man's services yet again, before he recognised that look of sincere determination; a feature he had often held when he was Dimitri's age. He could tell in that moment that there was no way he was going to change this man's mind and so he merely closed his mouth and smiled and nodded appreciatively.

"Like I said," Harry said quietly. "I will always be eternally grateful for all you've done recently." As Dimitri began to look awkward once again he continued. "Although I think you should know that if I was still your boss, and it was for someone else you were offering to go against the system for…well…you'd already be out by your ear…or possibly exiled to Peru." He smiled wittily.

Dimitri smiled in reply, "I'll bear that in mind." He nodded, and suddenly jumped as his phone went off inside his trouser pocket.

Quickly he pulled the device out, checked the caller ID and held the phone to his ear. "Erin?"

Harry could vaguely hear the sound a the young female's voice on the other end of the line, even from where he was standing, and he suspected that she was not in her best mood. Then again, she had probably just been thrown in the deep end and been placed in charge of this out of hand investigation; he could not blame her tone of voice.

"Right." Dimitri nodded. "Okay…okay…yeah, I'm just on my way back from seeing Harry." He said. "Yeah, I gave him the message…okay…yeah I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

Sighing, he pressed the button to end the call, and tugged the phone back into his pocket. "Sorry Harry," he said apologetically. "They think we might have something on-"

At Harry's immediately interested look, he continued quietly, "And…I'm really sorry Harry…I…I don't know if I can tell y-"

Harry understood immediately – there was only so much insubordination in which Dimitri could be forced to participate, and he was grateful for what the young man was already doing. "No, I understand Dimitri – you go on. Believe me, I know…duty calls."

Dimitri flashed him yet another apologetic look, nodded briefly, and then turned on his heel to leave. A thought suddenly occurred to Harry as he watched the young man stride purposefully down the hall, and he called out to him:

"Did Rosie have a good birthday?"

Dimitri turned back, slightly surprised, but smiling nonetheless. "Yes," he nodded. "Erin said that she particularly loved the chocolate caterpillar cake…and the fact that her mum could make it home for her special day."

Harry nodded appreciatively at the fact that there was good news for some, and watched Dimitri turn around once again and stride back down the corridor and down the stairs.

* * *

><p>Harry pulled up into his usual spot outside his house, and switched the ignition off, turning to glance at the woman in the passenger seat. Ruth sat next to him, sleeping perfectly peacefully, her head lulled against the headrest of the seat. Although she had remained in hospital only two days having luckily escaped death, she was still utterly exhausted – undoubtedly the culmination of the amount of worry she had been bottling up over the past few months. Now that he was 'temporarily suspended', Harry had enjoyed the luxuries of being able to stay with Ruth for more or less the entire past two days, except for when he had been forced by the hospital staff to go home. In that time, he had busied himself with preparing for Ruth's return to his home, from minor tasks such as buying enough food for two, to washing and arranging clean bedding in the spare room. Although he knew that there was a long way to go before either of them were entirely comfortable with each other, Harry was looking forward immensely to living with the woman he loved again.<p>

Throughout the time he spent with Ruth in the hospital, he had realised her struggle to overcome all that had happened over the last few months; this was established by him asking her whether she absolutely wanted to stay with him, or whether she might want to go home after all. To this, she had reacted quite distressingly again, and it had taken almost half an hour to calm her. Thus, he could not help wondering that if Ruth was going to be staying with him, at least for the near future, what would happen when the baby arrived. As yet, they had not really discussed much about the child at all, as other events had been getting in the way; Ruth had been taken for several scans at the hospital to give the baby the all clear, and at each one of them, despite Harry's hopes that she would, she had asked not to know the gender just yet. She claimed it was to do with having something to look forward to, but Harry strongly suspected that she just was not ready yet for another major revelation. So when Ruth turned down the opportunity to find out whether they were having a little boy or girl, Harry stayed quiet and simply held her hand tightly. However, it had also hit him just what it would be to have a baby around the house again, and if he was nervous, he realised Ruth was bound to be a hundred times so. She was already over five months along and they had not even considered how they were going to deal with their rather…dysfunctional lives, or about baby things, or about permanent living arrangements.

Still, in that moment as he watched her sleep in adoration, none of it seemed to matter. They were together now, and that was all that mattered…they would make things work.

"Ruth." He said gently, raising a hand to lightly shake her shoulder. She stirred at his touch, taking a fair few moments to gather the strength to roll her head round and open her eyes to look at him. "We're here."

Harry watched as the perfect peace and contentment of sleep drifted from her eyes, to be replaced by the dawning that she was indeed, still in this dark, dangerous world. He forced another smile as she stared at him for a moment and then glanced around at the house. She eyed it with pain and sadness, for the last time she had been there, things had not been quite so complex.

"I'm having the strangest sense of déjà vu." She said quietly, with a hint of a smile.

"I can't imagine why." Harry replied, grinning at Ruth's brave attempt at being light-hearted, before turning serious. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked her earnestly. "I'm not going to make you uncomfortable am I?"

"No," Ruth said after only a moment's hesitation. "I...I trust you."

This last statement sent a rush of warmth flooding through Harry's heart and he felt himself smile automatically, slightly red at the loving look she was currently giving him.

"Not too much too soon?" he asked, resuming the attempt at banter.

"No…I think I'll be alright." Ruth said quietly in return, although she looked slightly doubtful.

"Don't worry," Harry said. "I'll keep my hands to myself."

It was a comment which two months ago, following that disastrous evening of the attack, she would have launched herself away from him, as fast as she possibly could. Yet now she realised the reassurance and love in his bleak humour and nodded, "I know."

Harry flashed her one more smile before turning around, pushing the car door open, and stepping outside. He strode around the Ruth's side, opening the door quickly before she had even had a chance to reach for the handle.

"Your palace awaits my lady." He said gently, holding out a hand to a rather surprised, yet blushing Ruth. She smiled in spite of herself and took his hand without objection, allowing him to pull her gently out of the car and settle her on her feet. Once done, he closed the door carefully so as not to make her jump, and strode around to the back of the car to open the boot. He pulled out the tiny night bag which she had used at the hospital, followed by two large bags which Dimitri had fetched from Tring and handed to him on the quiet the day before.

"Here," Ruth said automatically, concerned by the amount he was carrying. "I'll…let me help…I'll-"

"It's fine." Harry assured her, although inwardly he was feeling the strains of the amount he was carrying on his back, which had been a little sore since he had been forced to carry her down from the Thames House roof. He put the bags down briefly and reached into his pocket, before withdrawing his key and handing it to her. "Can you open the door for me though," he said. "I don't think I have quite enough hands to do everything."

Ruth nodded automatically, "Of course." She said, embarrassed that she had not thought of this sooner. She took the key and hurried in front of him to open the door. It took her a few moments to figure out which way the key turned in the lock so that by the time she had opened the door, Harry was directly behind her, puffing at the weight of the bags. Once inside, he slung the bags down heavily onto the floor and stretched his back, feeling it crack in protest to its previous task. Ruth stared at him concernedly:

"Are you alright?" she asked, looking very guilty and apparently already doubting her decision to stay. Harry automatically nodded and patted her hand gently in order to quell her worries.

"I'm fine." He said immediately before adding a little sadly. "I'm just…well…not exactly young and fit anymore that's all."

Ruth ducked her head and there was a moment of silence before he heard her mutter embarrassedly, "I think you're…fine as you are…I mean…erm…I mean…I like you as you are."

Harry watched his beautiful stuttering Ruth, strongly reminded of the first few years in which she had worked for him. There was one memory in particular that struck him – she could not have been working for him more than two years, and she had stuttered out some comment about him pacing 'only in a good way' whilst she worried that he was going to leave the grid for that new and higher position. He smiled; he had been in love with her even then, even if he had not known it at the time.

"Thank you," he said sweetly, before adding honestly. "The feeling's mutual."

Ruth continued to duck her head but her blush had deepened noticeably to a shade of scarlet, and he knew she was smiling. They both jumped as he closed the door behind them and a loud bark erupted from the landing. Moments later, the familiar little terrier, Scarlett came bounding skilfully down the stairs, wagging her tail and barking in greeting. Harry looked nervously at Ruth, for the last time she and the little dog had met it had ended rather disastrously for her. Yet he was relieved to see that she was smiling slightly in greeting, despite her tense shoulders, a visible sign that at least her nerves were getting better. He kneeled down slowly and collected the happily wagging terrier in his arms, bringing her up to meet Ruth.

"Meet the ever curious Scarlett." He said, scratching his dog lightly on the head, just the way she liked it so that she was panting happily in his arms. "Your spy dog intruder." He added with a twinkle in his eye.

Ruth smile grew even wider and more relaxed at his comment, and she stared more assuredly at the little terrier who was yawning contentedly in her master's arms. Slowly she reached out her right hand to pet Scarlett, who automatically came on alert and stared at the woman in front of her. As their eyes met, Ruth stilled her hand, hovering a few inches away from the little dog and Harry thought that she was going to retreat it again. However a moment later she resumed her task and her hand landed lightly on Scarlett's soft fur, scratching her ears gently causing the little dog to wag her tail even harder. After a few seconds of this pampering, Scarlett turned her head and licked Ruth's hand affectionately, causing Harry to laugh.

"And now you've conquered the enemy," he said setting Scarlett down on the floor, where the little dog promptly stood on her back legs, placing her front two paws on Ruth's leg. "I say you unpack whilst I cook. Fair deal?"

Ruth smiled, looking genuinely relaxed for the first time in ages, "Fair deal." She answered gratefully, before looking hesitantly down at the hopeful dog below, clamouring to be picked up. Slowly, she bent down and lifted Scarlett into her arms, scratching the back of her ears so that the tail wagging started up again. Harry smiled, genuinely glad that Ruth had managed to conquer her initial fear of the dog, and even more relieved that they already seemed to be firm friends.

Smiling in adoration at the woman next to him, Harry bent down, picked up her luggage and began to ascend the stairs, Ruth carrying Scarlett in his wake. He travelled across the landing towards the room in which Ruth had slept in last time, and swung the door open, dropping the bags heavily onto the bed. He waited patiently for Ruth to join him and as suspected, once she emerged through the door, she gave a slight gasp of surprise.

During her stay in hospital, Harry had made the effort to make several trips over to her house to collect all kinds of things he supposed she might need. Thus, eventually he had ended up taking the equivalent of about three suitcases full of clothes, books and toiletries back over to his house for consumption. In terms of clothes, he had laid all of them neatly out on to the bed so that she could choose what she wanted to do with them; he had been careful to fetch a variety of garments – not just the typical long sleeved, cardigan and trouser outfits she generally wore these days. He had added several long skirts – the type she used to wear before the attack – to try and tempt her back into less constantly secure clothing, and thus improve her feeling of self-disgust. Harry had also stacked several pairs of flat and heeled shoes, and a pair of suede boots, next to the bedside table; an indication that he had remembered everything.

A large pile of books were stacked neatly on her bedside table, conveying Harry's knowledge of Ruth's love of books. He had taken some back to the house with him, because it had occurred to him that maybe Ruth might want some form of distraction to keep her thoughts drifting from unpleasant straits. Ruth's eyes began to fill with tears as she spotted a small mother-baby handbook lying on the bottom of the book pile, not helped by the fact that she had seen other items which Harry had obviously bought brand new for her. Next to the piles of her toiletries on the bed, there were two boxes of luxury bath and spa products, clearly to make her feel more at home, but Harry looked crestfallen to see Ruth's shoulders shaking and tears dribbling helplessly down her cheeks.

Scarlett, perhaps sensing the sensitivity of the moment licked the woman's hand in sympathy and did not complain when Harry gently eased her from Ruth's hands, and placed her down on to the floor.

"Ruth?" Harry said gently, fearing that perhaps he had done something awful – after all, she had not specifically asked for this. He would hate to think that he had overwhelmed her too much too soon, so that she would want to leave already. He tentatively reached forwards and put his hands on her forearms, questioning whether it was alright to hug her, and he was most relieved when she immediately leant herself into his warm embrace. He drew her close to him and hushed her gently whilst the tears continued to flow.

"I'm sorry sweetheart," he whispered gently. "I shouldn't have done this…it was too much…I should have known it would be too much. I just…I just wanted to surprise you."

He was almost relieved when she let out a spasmodic laugh which came out more like a splutter, but he sensed the beginnings of a smile and he began to hope that perhaps she was crying because she was happy.

"You…you did." She sniffed, reaching up to dry her eyes with her cardigan sleeve, but Harry beat her to it, lovingly stroking away the tear tracks with his thumbs. "I just…I…I…you've been so good to me. I really don't know…don't know how to thank you."

"You don't need to." Harry said firmly, stroking hair tenderly. "Call it a gesture of reconciliation after me being such a bastard."

Ruth stared at him for a moment, an odd expression on her face, before Harry realised it was genuine unadulterated love – an expression he had not often seen from her in recent months. "You're _not _a bastard." She said quietly but firmly after about a minute. "You're a very…kind…gentle man…when you let people see the real you."

It was Harry's turn to blush and he did so admirably, his face turning to the same crimson Ruth's had earlier. However, he could not help but smile at the light tone in her voice, and the hand stroking her hair glided over her cheek briefly. "Do you need any help?" he asked, shrugging off the praise. He heard Scarlett patter away and trot down the stairs again, presumably bored by the lack of attention.

"No…thank you." She said, suddenly shy. "I…I think I can manag-"

Suddenly, she stopped mid-flow of her sentence, an odd, wide-eyed expression falling over her whilst her whole body suddenly tensed. Harry noticed the change immediately and automatically shifted away, studying her carefully.

"Ruth?" he asked her worriedly, becoming even more anxious when her breathing began to shake. "What's wrong? What is it?"

He was not rewarded with a reply; instead she simply stood there staring into space, breathing shallowly and turning white as a sheet.

"Ruth?" Harry tried again, becoming even more worried.

He was about to move his left hand into her right, when she suddenly raised her said hand and slowly drew it up to her body. Harry watched her movement carefully and felt his heart constrict when her hand landed on her stomach. Was there something wrong? Was this some sort of after effect of the hypothermia? Had they not escaped luckily after all? But then, he noticed, she was not showing any indication of any pain, or even frowning. She appeared to have just frozen in shock. And then it dawned on Harry what the cause of Ruth's sudden bewilderment might be.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he reached out a hand and placed it gently on Ruth's stomach, next to her own hand. She did not even flinch at this unusual contact between them, and she remained concentrated for a minute. Harry noticed nothing different and was about to remove his hand in confusion when he felt it. Very faintly. Coming from Ruth's stomach was a series of slight convulsions…very light and faint…but nonetheless, most definitely there.

Harry felt his heart melt right there, and he looked at Ruth who, he was surprised to see, was now staring wide-eyed and awestruck at him. He thought she even looked a little bit frightened so he used his free hand to take her other one, clasping it tightly.

"H…h…Harry." She breathed slowly, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"It's kicking Ruth," he said gently, having to blink away his own tears as he watched her eyes refill once more. "Our baby's kicking."

Both of them felt the movement against her protruding stomach once more before it stopped completely and they looked at each other. For an instant neither of them said anything, sharing a knowing, tearful look for just a few minutes before Ruth burst into happy tears once more. Harry meanwhile, began to laugh quietly in joy, drawing the woman he loved into another tight embrace. He thought vaguely as he kissed her temple repeatedly, that after all these long years in the service, of both their suffering, and with their future career prospects bleak, there had suddenly just been one little moment of magic which had made it all worth it.

**Hoped you liked that even if it was pretty uneventful. But next up is the HR date, a death and Harry takes action against Coaver - possibly we may even begin to find out about Elena's involvement. Sorry to those of you who wanted me to reveal the baby's gender, and I was going to, but the greater majority who didn't want me to made me think, and I hope I've found a better time for it to be revealed. Please review and tell me what you think :) **


	27. Chapter 27

**Okay, first off thank you so much for the absolutely fabulous reviews - they all really encourage me to write even though work keeps demanding my attentions. Therefore sorry for my lack of updates. This chapter got so long that I had to chop it in half, so here is the first half and the second half should be posted either later today or tomorrow. It will go off on a rather bizzare tangent I know, but this story is writing itself, but no worries - the action wil come in the latter half of the next chapter. Please read and review xxx**

The clinking of plates sounded through the house as Harry put the remainder of the drying-up into the cupboard, and swung the tea towel back over its hook. He stared briefly out of the kitchen window at the messily-built well wall at the bottom of his garden. It had been a building project that he had attempted when he first moved into the house following his divorce with Jane, but he had soon discovered that he had neither the time nor the skills to continue with the effort – hence its rather sorry state. Now however, he was not really paying too much attention to the well; caught up in his own thoughts and fears about what he was planning to say to Ruth in the next room.

She had been living with him little under a month and the progress she had undertaken was phenomenal. Whilst a few months ago she would have ducked her head and shrunk away from anyone approaching her, she would now simply tense up a bit before berating herself silently and forcing herself into a state of mild confidence. Harry was more relieved than he could ever say that she was becoming more like her old strong, determined, witty self, having been quite worried about her since the Thames House roof incident. At meal times they were able to engage in pleasant enough conversation, and several times he deliberately dropped in the odd word about Homer, to which she would react enthusiastically with that beautifully resumed twinkle in her eye. Christmas and New Years had come and gone, the pair of them spending a great deal of the day laughing at Harry abusing mindless Christmas films, or playing scrabble (with Ruth winning of course) curled up together on the sofa. As the bells for the New Year had chimed, Harry had taken one look at Ruth's still inward sadness and wished fervently to whoever was listening for a better new year for her – she deserved it more than anyone.

Since making friends with Scarlett, the pair of them had been virtually inseparable – Scarlett had apparently taken a deep liking to this incredibly gently woman, and Harry did not blame her one bit. Scarlett had even stopped lurking in unseen hiding places and was always seen either on Ruth's lap or lying on the ground beneath her feet like some self-appointed guard dog. Harry had to admit that this even seemed to make Ruth a little more secure with her safety, however he had drawn the line to Scarlett's attempts at leaping onto her bed and sleeping there at night, due to the fact that she might start barking in the middle of the night and startle her.

Night times were the bad the side, and the only thing she was powerless to conquer. More or less every night Harry could hear from his own room the sound of Ruth screaming out in terror as she re-lived her attack and so many more terrible events in her nightmares. So much so, his body had become attuned to the times she woke up hollering and shaking with a frightened sweat, and he was always ready for the moment. When the sounds came, Scarlett always started to bark, afraid something had happened to her new friend, and pawed at the door until Harry dashed along the landing and tugged the door open. He would then climb onto the bed with her, stroking her hair and rocking her until the bad dreams subsided; she would never wake as he did so, only quieten and eventually drift into a more peaceful slumber. He had never told her about the constant nightmares, partly because she never asked, but chiefly because he did not have the heart to tell her – she had been doing so well recently.

She rarely ventured outside, partly because she had no cause to now that she had been suspended, but mainly, Harry suspected, because she was still wary. Occasionally they went out together to walk Scarlett, however the entire time he held tight to her hand and although she smiled stiffly and pretended everything was fine, she maintained a tight grip as well. Nevertheless, the baby seemed to have given her a new bill of health and happiness – he probably should not say health considering the morning sickness was still present, although it had calmed down a lot. But still, she smiled a lot more and whenever she read the mother-baby book he had bought her, she always had an expression of true happy contentment on her face. Each time the baby kicked she would immediately call him from whatever part of the house he was in, and they would experience the moment together; he did not miss that she positively beamed with each kick.

Brought back to the present, Harry swallowed, hoping now was not too soon, and he moved through into the sitting room to where Ruth was curled up next to Scarlett on the sofa, petting the little dog gently. He was suddenly alert that something was not quite right, because she was frowning as she stared out of the window, her eyes concentrating on something just outside.

"What is it?" he asked, moving to sit beside her and stare out of the window.

Ruth frown deepened slightly and she looked as if she was about to tell him before she shook her head, and turned away from the window. "No…it's nothing."

"Ruth come on." Harry said, knowing her better than to just drop the matter – something outside had obviously been bothering her.

"It's stupid." She said slowly. "I know it's just…paranoia. It's what we do isn't it…we're going to have paranoia for the rest of our lives."

"What is it?" he pressed on firmly, turning back towards the window and looking outside once again.

Ruth sighed and turned to look back outside with him. "I…I think we're being watched."

"What do you mean? Watched?" Harry said slowly, trying to identify any likely culprits before finally spotting what Ruth must have seen. Two men were seated in a silver mondeo – one in the passenger seat reading a copy of The Times and the other…quite plainly looking directly at him. "Ah." He finished.

"Have you seen them?" Ruth asked quietly, turning the right way on the sofa and clasping her hands in her lap nervously.

"Yes." Harry sighed, shifting his little dog onto his lap when she was quite clearly not about to move, so that he could sit next to Ruth. "But don't worry, they're not hear to cause any harm – they're government signed cars – they're ours."

"I can see that," Ruth admitted, and Harry smiled slightly as she appeared slightly irked that he had misjudged her intelligence in that way.

"You'd think the government could afford better cars then that," Harry said, gently taking one of her hands in his. "And more to the point – better staff…they're hardly making it a secret that they're watching us."

"But why are they watching us?" Ruth asked quietly, and Harry heard a familiar note of vulnerability in her voice. "Is it a warning?"

Harry squeezed her hand comfortingly and said lightly, "They're probably just warning us not to do anything stupid like kill a man or escape the country."

"Funny Harry." She replied sarcastically, but with a hint of a smile on her face.

"I think you'll find that I'm deadly serious Ms Evershed," he said humorously. "If I wanted to be funny I'd turn around right now, wave back at them and invite them inside for a cup of afternoon tea."

He loved the way the smile automatically found its way on to her lips now and she could not help but splutter a gentle laugh. However she quickly became serious again, "Why are they doing this?" she said quietly. "We haven't done anything wrong."

Harry saw that she was quickly becoming miserable at the thought and decided it couldn't hurt to step in any time soon with his suggestion.

"So why don't we duck out and avoid them for a few hours tonight?" he asked her gently, squeezing her hand again as she whirled her head around to stare at him in shock.

"What?" she asked quickly, clearly nervous at venturing out at night – something she had not done since the attack. "What do you mean?"

"Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?" he said, realising what he had just said and ramblingly added, "Officially I mean…in a sort of occasion…a…erm…a date…a meal out at a restaurant."

Ruth stared at him for a few seconds, looked extremely conflicted, worry clearly etched on her face. "H…harry I don't know if I ca-"

"It'll be fine." He said gently. "I'll be with you all the time…we'll take a taxi and-"

"But Harry I can't," she said, panic noticeably rising within her. "You haven't once mentioned this since…since the hospital. I…I haven't prepared…I can't…and I…I have nothing to wear-"

"How about what you're wearing now?" he questioned placating, stroking her hand gently with the tips of his fingers, and looking down at her jumper which was only just stretching over her ever larger baby bump, and trousers.

Ruth snorted, "I…I can't wear this." She looked down at her bump and stroked it softly.

He suddenly became aware that tears were starting to well in her eyes and he quickly pulled her close to him, kissing the top of her head lightly, "Hey," he hushed gently. "It was just an idea…I thought we both deserved a little treat and a night out. It was supposed to cheer you up. If you don't want to-"

"Harry," she sniffed, stubbornly forcing the tears away with her hands. "It's a very…kind thought but-"

"But what?" he asked firmly.

She looked down at her baby bump once more before saying quietly and ashamedly, "I'm huge Harry," she whispered as he listened patiently. "And…everyone would look at me and they would talk-"

Harry stared at her lovingly for a few more moments before shaking his head in disbelief, "Anyone who would be looking at you, you would never ever see again so it doesn't matter what they think. In fact," he added tenderly, stroking her hair gently as she sat pressed against him. "Why would they think anything out of the ordinary at all? You're pregnant – quite noticeably so…as are millions of other women in the world. Plus," he said when she started to stare back at him in disbelief. "You always look beautiful Ruth, whatever the time, whatever the place…and whatever you wear." He finished, his eyes twinkling gently at her.

She could not help the blush that rose within her as he continued to stare at her, and she had to look away smiling. Harry could not help but laugh gently at her embarrassment. "Come on," he prompted. "You wouldn't have me go on my own would you?"

Ruth really did smile at this, "Let me guess...you've booked a table?" She said pretending to think about this, that same smile playing on her face as when he asked her out five year previously.

"It's a place I think you'd like." He quoted, remembering his words from so long ago.

"It's awfully presumptuous of you," she smiled, and then grew half serious as she added, "I might say no."

"Yes you might," he agreed gently and eyed her seriously. "But I would…really love it if you came. After all, you wouldn't want to make me look like some sad old man in the corner of the room would you?"

"Whatever happened to making the bread rolls dance?" she asked cheekily, making him smile even more.

"I'm not quite Charlie Chaplin." He admitted in a falsely stern voice before adding, "And it wouldn't be the same without you."

Ruth stared at him for a good long minute before sighing and nodding briefly, "O…Okay yes…please...I'd…love to have dinner." She managed and looked up at Harry to see a smile wider than a Cheshire cat with the cream.

"Thank you." He said gently and leaned in slowly. Ruth took the hint and met him in a brief, gentle, but loving kiss.

Both men sitting watching them from inside the silver mondeo narrowed their eyes slightly as they caught this intimate moment between the couple they had been assigned to watch. The one in the passenger seat slammed down his newspaper and looked smugly at his companion who flashed an equally sinister smile.

* * *

><p>Evening gradually came about, and Harry sat nervously on the edge of the sofa. Even if he had been living with Ruth for nearly a month, and had seen her at mealtimes continuously, the thought that this was an official date made him quite nervous. An official date meant that you should really get dressed up smartly, and make small talk that eventually seemed to bear absolutely no relevance at all. He painfully remembered the last date he and Ruth had ventured on together, culminating in an office full of gossip and one very embarrassed Ruth who had then called the whole thing off, before being exiled less than a month later.<p>

Still, he had to admit that the prospect of an evening out together had, for the first time since her arrival, properly taken Ruth's mind off things. She had spent the majority of the day since lunchtime trying to organise herself properly with something to wear, despite his protests that she already looked beautiful. He had run into her looking flustered on the landing a couple of times during the day and had initially been worried that the prospect of a date was causing additional stress, before he realised that she was actually enjoying having her mind filled with something else other than vicious images.

Harry checked his watch and saw with surprise that it was one minute to seven, which would mean their taxi would be arriving any moment now. He could of course have driven to the restaurant, however he had carefully hatched a plan to arrange for the cab driver to arrive two streets away, giving both he and Ruth time to slip out of the back door to avoid the attentions of their ever loyal watchers outside. From there they would travel round the back of the house and into the next street where he would pay a generous tip to the driver for his troubles. Not that leaving the house with Ruth had been set in stone as a forbidden rule, however he would have preferred their private occasions to remain just that – private.

Suddenly he felt his mobile buzz noisily from inside his blazer pocket and he reached into his smart dinner suit to pull out the device. As he thought, it was the number of the cab service he had dialled, and he pressed the receive button.

"Yes?"

"Taxi for Pearce." Said a young cockney man, on the other end of the line.

"Yes, thank you." Harry nodded, getting up from his perch on the sofa and heading to the bottom of the stairs. "We'll meet you outside in about ten minutes – keep the engine running and there'll be an extra something for you."

"Right you are." The cockney youngster replied, sounding really rather pleased at this, and Harry disconnected the call.

"Ruth?" He called lightly from the bottom of the stairs. "The taxi's here."

He waited expectantly for any sound to come from her room, whether it was movement or voice, but none came. Frowning, he called her name again, only to be met by the same silence. Unable to prevent his pumping heart, which had been alert at the slightest problem with her recently, he hurried up the stairs and knocked firmly on her bedroom for.

"Ruth?" As he was met with yet more silence, he sighed, "I'm coming in okay, so if you're not completely changed just stop me."

Still there was nothing, so Harry knocked once more before opening the door. As he entered, he was most relieved not to find her passed out on the floor or any other scenario he had imagined, however he was rather perturbed to see her sitting there mutely on the edge of the bed, staring expressionlessly at the mirror in front of her. He looked down at her slowly and saw that her upper body was covered with a large brown jacket that carefully concealed her protruding stomach, and a beige top underneath. The thing he was most startled to see was the fact that on her lower half she was wearing a long, dark brown skirt which almost met her ankles, in the exact style she had used to wear before the attack. He followed her gaze into the mirror and knew immediately it was the resumption of the skirt that was causing her subdued manner, and he sat down on the bed next to her, knowing she was going to need some more encouraging to get her out of the door. Yet the only thing that was flowing through his mind as he stared at the woman he adored, as she was dressed so beautifully was:

"You look…gorgeous." He said honestly, pausing afterwards in realisation that he had actually said the comment out loud.

Still, this seemed to have a positive effect on Ruth as she blushed and could not help but raise a slight smile. "Thank you." She said in a small voice, twisting her hands nervously in her lap.

"The taxi's here." Harry said gently, stilling her hands by taking one in both of his. "Are you ready to go?"

Ruth looked as if she would really rather not go at all and call the whole thing off, yet he noted that familiar form of stubbornness in her expression and he could see that she was battling with herself inwardly. "Yes…"she said doubtfully. "Just…just give me a minute."

He watched her take a series of long deep breaths, and he said both honestly and in an attempt to reassure her, "I like the skirt." He said softly, making her smile yet again. "But if you're not comfortable, don't wear it. You're supposed to enjoy yourself this evening – you're not going to do that if you're constantly worried."

She shook her head stubbornly, "No I'm fine…I'm okay," she looked nervously at him. "As long as you-"

"I love it." He said gently, kissing her left hand. "Like I said, you look gorgeous."

A few more moments passed until Harry looked at Ruth who suddenly appeared much more at ease. "Shall we go?"

She smiled and nodded slowly, taking his hands as he helped her up off the bed, and secured an arm round her waist as she descended the stairs. He noticed that one hand was constantly rooted to her side in a bid to keep the skirt resolutely down, but otherwise, she looked just fine. They reached the front door and he helped her into her coat, and he was just pulling his own on when Scarlett's bark could be heard as she clattered through the hallway and came to a stop at their feet. She put one paw on each of their legs, as if begging for them to take her with them but Harry simply chuckled, petting her head gently.

"Sorry girl," he said softly. "But you can't come with us this time. Just you be a good dog and look after the old place alright?"

As if she had miraculously understood her master, Scarlett took one last longing look at Ruth before returning to all four legs and trotting back down the hall towards the sitting room. Harry and Ruth followed her through to the kitchen and headed out the back entrance instead of the front, he being careful to lock the door behind him. With that, he took her hand, squeezed it once and they headed out into the darkness.

* * *

><p>"Reservation for Pearce." Harry said to the freckly young man at the desk in the corner of the room, whilst Ruth took the time to stare around the quaint little restaurant. The walls were covered in thick old-fashioned wooden panels, and to complete the vintage appearance, the floor was completely stone and untouched by tacky scratchy carpets. The windows were coloured but not stain glass, probably put in only recently, coated in a picture of a large Margheritta pizza and an Italian flag. In the distance, to add to the soft mood of the room, gentle music was being played via two small speakers each side of the room. The sight made her smile and she only looked away when Harry took her arm gently and indicated for them to follow the freckly young man who was now leading them to their table.<p>

The table was ideally placed; situated in the far corner, away from straying eyes and speculation, two walls providing sheltered protection. Ruth's smile widened slightly as Harry took her coat and placed it over her chair for her before she sat down, marvelling again at how different he was to the Grid's Harry Pearce. The freckly young man placed two menus neatly in front of them, and said politely:

"I'll get someone to take your orders in just a moment. Please feel free to ask myself or any of my other colleagues if you need anything."

Harry nodded in thanks, and the young man slipped away back to his post near the door. He watched Ruth's eyes travel once more around the room and said quietly.

"I hope you like it."

"Oh yes," she said enthusiastically, feeling relief flood through her at the cosiness of the restaurant. "It's lovely here?"

Harry smiled, "It is. I thought it might be nicer rather than somewhere big and out in the open for everyone to see." He returned Ruth's grateful smile. "I came here once or twice when you were in Cyprus – just to sit quietly and think."

Ruth pushed all thoughts of Cyprus out of her mind but managed to nod, "Yes," she agreed softly. "It's a good place for that."

The pair took up their menus and began to read, each inwardly impressed at the variety of dishes available. However, Ruth who from time to time still felt nauseas, felt she could only cope with something plain, and her eyes eventually landed on the vegetable risottos. Less than a minute later, a waiter arrived, even younger than the doorman, dressed in smart black attire and carrying a small notebook with him.

Pen poised, he said, "Would you and your wife like to order sir"

Ruth's eyes widened, and flushing deep crimson she opened her mouth to speak, but Harry got there first, "Yes," he said firmly. "We would."

He flashed Ruth a gentle smile, his eyes twinkling and she felt herself going even redder, however this time she was smiling.

"Would you care for a starter sir?" the young man asked, and Harry glanced at Ruth, gathering her response from her eyes. Seeing that she could barely manage an entire first course these days, he shook his head confidently.

"No, I think we'll go straight for the main meal. Is that alright?" he asked Ruth in confirmation. She flashed him a smile to tell him he had done the right thing.

"Yes," she replied. "That's fine."

"Very well," the young man replied politely. "Would you like to order some drinks?"

Harry looked questioningly at Ruth who asked for a sparkling apple juice, due to her non-alcohol resolution, and to keep her company he ordered the same. He reeled off the rest of their order to the young waiter who nodded and said he would be back momentarily to deliver their drinks. As they watched him walk away, silence drifted between them, both realising the awkwardness of an official date. They caught each other's eyes and eventually laughed a little nervously.

"So…" Harry said slowly, earning another nervous laugh from the woman opposite.

"Yes, she said smiling. "So…"

"How is it we can talk perfectly fine at home," he said frowning humorously. "And then we arrive here and…well…things are awkward."

Ruth smiled and nodded, "I think maybe it's something to do with the word 'date' that frightens the life out of some people."

"No," Harry replied lightly. "Not 'some people' – just you and I." He watched as that beautiful smile washed over her face yet again.

"Well," she said softly. "Me maybe – but I find it hard to believe that you struggle your way through a date."

"Oh really?" Harry said gently. "I seem to remember that only on our first date, I tried to get you to travel around the world with me."

Ruth laughed again, this time much more at ease, and he was joyous to see she was no longer self-conscious about what she was wearing. "You were very eager." She said reminiscently.

"I think I was a little more than eager." He replied smilingly.

"Well…if it makes you feel any better," she said softly. "It was the nicest date I've ever been experienced."

Harry laughed at that, "Then you can't have been on very many dates." He realised as soon as the words left his lips that it was the wrong thing to say; he watched her visibly blanch and knew that there was a lot of truth in his words. His eyes followed her as she ducked her head to her lap and twisted her fingers through her napkin nervously.

"Oh God," he said quickly, mentally kicking himself. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean-"

"No…" she replied quickly, flashing him a smile in reassurance. "No it's okay." She looked down at her lap once again, her eyes downcast. "I…I suppose I was just…too shy…didn't really attract that many men-"

"Then those men were fools." Harry said firmly, reaching over and taking her hand from across the table, stilling her nervous fidgeting.

She paused before looking up and smiling gratefully at him, a blush still noticeable in her cheeks.

"Besides," he said, angling back to the lightness in their conversation. "You weren't missing out on much. When I went on my first date with Jane, I seemed to do everything wrong, from the wrong conversation topics to spilling vinegar down her blouse – I was very surprised when she said she'd marry me."

Ruth smiled, apparently a little more cheery and prepared to engage in the usual banter, "So do you know how to handle second-date etiquette now?"

Harry smiled playfully, "I think I have a fair idea."

The young man serving them suddenly approached them and set the drinks down onto the table. They waited until he had gone to resume their conversation.

"Go on then." Ruth said, returning his playful smile.

"What?"

"Practice your second-date material on me." She said slowly, and Harry thought her intense blush was extremely adorable.

"Alright," he agreed, taking a sip of his drink to get him started. He paused for a moment to consider what to say. "Where was the best eating place you've ever been to?"

Ruth stared at him for a few seconds, a smile playing on her lips, as if trying to figure out whether he was serious or not. When she seemed satisfied that he was, she sighed and thought for a moment. "I think…"she said slowly. "It must be this little place just outside Oxford – it had live musicians," she watched Harry pull a face, indicating how much he hated restaurant musicians. "Which were actually very good." She said mockingly sternly to him, to which he smiled like a berated schoolboy. "And the food wasn't half bad either." Harry laughed at this seemingly casual afterthought, and she turned to him, "How about you?"

"You see," he said cheekily. "You're already better at second-date etiquette than me." This earned him a playful slap on the arm. "Okay, okay." He said seriously, and he thought for a moment. "I think…it would have to be a tiny little place I ended up finding after getting lost on my one and only trip to Paris."

Ruth smiled, her eyes misty with reminisce, "Paris – New York."

"Oh God, don't start that again." Harry laughed, causing her to allow a small laugh as well, however he noticed that after a few seconds the laughter seemed to die away from her face, and returned to its recent sad complexion.

"Things were so much simpler back then." She said forlornly.

Harry reached out a comforting hand again and squeezed hers from across the table. "Simpler maybe…but not necessarily better."

She noted the way his eyes flicked down towards her protruding stomach and she could not help but smile as she recognised truth in his words. With the exception of the attack and the events in recent months, things had never been between them; living with Harry would have been one of the happiest moments of her life had she not been constantly plagued by unhappy memories that never seemed to go away. He was exceptionally kind and gentle towards her, and always willing to give her time or space – in some ways a complete contrast to the man she worked for. On various occasions the hormones of the pregnancy and the weight of everything else had become too much and she had found herself sobbing into Scarlett's fur on the sofa. Each time Harry had heard the commotion, he sat down next to her and pulled her into his embrace, whispering gentle words of comfort until the worries went away.

With that in mind, she smiled at him and nodded, "Yes…" she said quietly. "I suppose you're right." Another affectionate pause lasted between them before she struggled for something else to say. "So," she said slowly. "You've been to Paris? Exactly how many other countries have you been to?"

He could tell from her expression that she probably knew the answer already, knowing that at one time or another she had combed through every inch of his file. In all honesty, she probably knew his life story better than she did. However, he could tell she was trying to make nervous conversation so he complied:

"Well, I've visited pretty much all the European and Middle Eastern states at some point. Probably my favourite holiday destination – other than Paris of course – was Austria. The mountains there, particularly in winter, are…stunning." He enthused, taking a moment to find the right word. "Belarus in winter was…cold." He smiled as Ruth laughed at his understatement. "One place I've never been which I suppose I ought to have is Italy." He nodded as she looked surprised; she had thought Italy would be such an obvious destination for someone like him. Then again, maybe that was why he had never been. "It's a pity I suppose," he continued. "Because I think my favourite dish is actually almost always with pasta."

"You mean your favourite dish isn't fish?" she teased. It took him a moment to realise what she was talking about before he remembered his serving her fish days in a row when she stayed with him the first time.

"Now, now," he replied back teasingly. "I may not be your boss anymore Ruth, but there's no need to be rude."

"Oh there's every need." She answered jokily, and Harry loved the cheeky grin that had begun to write itself across her face.

Another pause befell them, causing Harry to search for another conversation topic, although he was mindful that each second, things seemed to be getting much easier between them – almost like having an ordinary dinner at home rather than an official date.

"Favourite book?"

"I can't possibly answer that." She replied smilingly.

"And why not?"

"Because it's such a vague field." She criticised lightly. "Favourite books? What kind of books? Historical, non-fiction, adventure, fantasy, poetry-"

"-Crime, romance." He finished and he pleasantly noted the way she blushed when he said 'romance'. She looked nervous at what to say so he encouraged her lightly, "Any or all of the above."

Looking slightly more relaxed she considered this and said, "It would probably be a toss-up between 'Twenty thousand Leagues under the Sea', Homer's 'Iliad', Burgess's 'The Small Woman' or almost all of the Austen's and Bronte's I can find."

Harry laughed at her long list, pulling a face of mock surprise, "You mean you're not a fan of 'War and Peace'? Shock, horror."

"I've read it but it's not all it's cracked up to be." She said, not rising to the bait. However she could not help but smile at him as she added, "What about you? What's your favourite book?"

"Don't get me wrong – I love reading books," he started. "but after working for the security services for the last thirty years, and before that, the army, and before that, Sandhurst – there's not a great deal of time to actually sit down and read."

His admission noticeably made her more anxious; as she was reminded once again of how long Harry had been in their line of work, without cracking. She on the other hand, had made it through nine years before almost having a nervous breakdown, and before that she had only had to contend with GCHQ and her social life. A new feeling of unworthiness swept over her, but Harry could tell at once what she was thinking and gently squeezed her hand again.

"But," he continued in a bid to keep the conversation going. "I have to say that I'm rather partial to a bit of Jules Verne myself, as well as John Buchan and the odd Shakespeare."

"Shakespeare?" she questioned, fighting through her nervousness to get back to the banter. "Now that's just showing off."

"Says the one who's read Homer's 'Iliad' and 'Odysseus', and can speak up to twelve languages without thinking." He then added with a glint in his eye, "Except her Cantonese of course, which according to her is-"

"Horrible." Ruth finished, smiling again, and although he appeared to be berating her, she could tell it was his way of appraising her and her abilities, in order to make her feel rather less unworthy. "Alright then," she said curiously. "Which Shakespeare's are you 'partial to'?"

Harry thought for just a moment before replying, "Hamlet, Othello, Anthony and Cleopatra."

"They're all tragedies." She pointed out solemnly.

"Mm." he nodded seriously. "What does that say about my character? That I am a melancholic?"

"They're also plays in which the man is incredibly cruel towards the woman."

"How so?"

"Ophelia ends up going mad and drowning herself, Othello smothers Desdemona, Anthony-"

"Okay okay," he mock grumbled. "I get the picture. But they're better than Twelfth Night and As You Like It?"

"How so?" she asked, mirroring his words from before. "They're lovely plays – the man gets the woman and all is well? It's a happy ending?"

"And I don't dispute that," he nodded, wishing that they would end up with their happy ending rather than becoming another tragedy. "The happy ending is wonderful." He said, making her eyes sparkle. "But it's completely ridiculous. I mean – look at As You like it – when would anyone realistically believe that Rosalind is a man?"

"It's part of the original performance conditions." She answered, getting annoyingly worked up over his smug and smiling face. "In Shakespeare's day, the person performing Rosalind would've been a young boy who hadn't yet hit puberty – therefore his voice wouldn't have broken and he might have sounded like a girl."

She watched the grin spread wider, and realised that he had known all of this already, so she thumped him lightly on the forearm. He laughed loudly and pretended to recoil, "Ouch…that hurt." He said, although it quite plainly did not. Instead, he captured her hand as it was drawing back and kissed it lightly gently.

* * *

><p>Harry thanked the young waiter as he collected their plates, and went off in search of dessert menus. He turned to Ruth, who now that she had eaten a full risotto had much more colour in her cheeks, and looked much more relaxed. They both knew that it was debateable whether she would manage to keep it all down before her bout of morning sickness the following morning, however the idea was the enjoy the moment now. He watched her pull a face.<p>

"Oh dear, I'm not sure I can stomach a desert as well." She smiled, subconsciously placing a hand over her stomach.

"Of course you can," Harry encouraged. "Don't forget, you're eating f-"

"For two." She finished for him. "Yes, I know. You've been reminding me of this during every meal for the past month."

"You _must_ be getting to know me well," he said lightly. "You're beginning to finish my sentences."

"Oh well," she sighed. "At least we'll be keeping up the pretence of being a married couple." She indicated the waiter. At the word marriage, he noticed her cheeks tinge slightly paler, but was relieved to see she was still smiling. He pushed the image of the failed marriage proposal out of his mind and nodded.

"You know who else seem to be finishing each other's sentences recently?" he said slyly, causing Ruth to look curiously at him.

"Who?"

"Dimitri and Erin." He raised his eyebrows suggestively, and her eyes widened, catching on to what he was saying.

"No." she disbelievingly. "No…you mean…you think…?" she demanded of him, causing him to chuckle slightly.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I thought match-making was supposed to be something a _woman_ is skilled at?"

"You…you think there's something going on between them?" she asked in a hushed voice, the life in her eyes very much apparent with their gorgeous sparkling blue. She then narrowed her eyes and grinned, "I never took you as one for gossip Harry Pearce."

"I'm not…usually." He said honestly, grinning. "It's possibly the effect of living with you for a month."

She opened her mouth in mock indignation, "I do not gossip."

He considered this for a moment before conceding, "No you don't." he then added, "But you're nosey."

"No I am not."

"Yes you are." He argued. "We all are. It's what makes you such a brilliant spook."

Her smile faded slightly, "You mean it's what _made_ me a good spook."

He reclaimed her hand, "I'm sure everything will turn out just fine. Maybe you'll get to go back after the inquiry."

She shook her head, "Optimism doesn't suit you," she said smiling sadly. "You're always the one to tell me the realistic chances. If I was asking you as someone who wants a second opinion, rather than…me, what would you tell me?"

Harry hesitated and then sighed, "I would tell you that the chances aren't that great."

She nodded, "I'm not sure I would go back anyway – everyone would snigger and stare…and gossip."

"You have more friends than you think in that place Ruth," he said quietly. "When you were in the hospital I had many well-wishers come up to me for you. Dimitri says the same thing. You're very much liked."

He watched her smile slightly and duck her head shyly again, before the nagging question he had been desperate to ask for months popped back into his mind. He studied her, battling with himself whether to ask it or not before his curiosity finally overcame him.

"Ruth," he said gravely. "When I came back to the grid after the first inquiry – when I was behaving like a complete..." he searched for the right word before finishing. "Arsehole," She opened her mouth to contradict him but he beat her to it and continued, "You said something about…about how men have treated you in the past-"

Ruth grew incredibly pale at his question, realising that he had indeed remembered that conversation, and even more importantly, what she had let slip. She swallowed and kept her eyes rooted to her lap, D…did I?"

"Yes." Harry replied, knowing that she was intentionally evading the question. "You did."

"I…I don't remember." She stuttered none-too convincingly, trying to reclaim her hand from Harry's, but he was holding on tight, not intending to let this one go.

"Yes you do." He reprimanded her calmly.

"It was months ago," she said, clearly discomforted by the conversation, panic written over her face as she tried desperately to free her hand. "You can't possibly expect me to remember that. It was probably just…just something unimportant I said in the heat of the moment-"

"It wasn't unimportant," he said as gently as he could, every part of his brain screaming at him to jut drop it, however something stopped him from doing so. "You were upset then, and you wouldn't be reacting like this if it was unimportant."

He maintained a grip on her hand, preventing her from moving away. Images of the balaclava-clad man straddling her and gripping her arms so she could not move assaulted her mind, the fear as she watched him shove down his boxers, the agony of him inside her…she could not cope. She struggled even more against Harry's tight grip and whispered distressingly, "Please let me go."

Looking into her frightened eyes and pale cheeks, he let go of her automatically, as if she was mad of red hot fire. "Oh God…" he said, realising he should have listened to his instincts. "God…Ruth I'm so sorry…I'm…"

Before he could finish his sentence, she got to her feet with her baby bump creating some difficulty, and hurried off to the direction of the toilets. Harry sat back and ran a hand over his face, cursing quietly to himself.

**So next update either today or tomorrow? Like I said - wierd tangent...hopefully you like it anyway. Next up HR resolve, we find out what the watchers in the car want, and possibly something to do wth Coaver...Please review - it makes me write much faster xxx**


	28. Chapter 28

**Since you were all really kind with your reviews (thank you!) I've been typing more or less straight in my free time since Saturday :) So I hope it was worth it and that you like this. There's a little bit of both in it - some quality HR time and some plot so hopefully it'll suit everyone. Please bear in mind that half of this about Harry's and Ruth's pasts is completely made up, and please...no shootiing me! Please read and review xxx**

When she returned a quarter of an hour later, she found Harry sitting patiently for her, a slice of gorgeously oozing chocolate cake waiting to be eaten in her place. She noted that he had ordered a miserable scoop of vanilla ice cream for himself, and had she not been crying five minutes beforehand, she might have laughed at the amusing sight. He looked up as he saw her approaching and the guilt and apology was written all over his face. Despite her puffy red eyes she did her best to smile nervously back, and sat down again, subconsciously rubbing her stomach as she did so. They stared at each other for a moment, trying to decide who was brave enough to make the first move. Harry eventually volunteered, and indicating the chocolate cake in front of her said meekly:

"Peace offering?"

He looked at her desperately, wondering if she was going to accept his gesture. She considered this for a few seconds before nodding and smiling bravely.

"It's a good peace offering." She conceded. "But you're not entirely to blame. I overreacted…I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he replied firmly. "I should have known better than to push you like that…it was something you quite obviously didn't want to talk about. And I'm sorry about your hand – I didn't hurt you did I?" he gabbled in worry.

She smiled at his concern, "No you didn't."

"I really am sorry about that," he repeated. "Spook tendencies coming out I'm afraid."

She smiled good-naturedly, "Just make a note to self – no interrogating the woman when you're on a second date. In fact…no…let's amend that to no interrogating your partner…period."

He was overjoyed that she had referred to herself as his partner and could not help but smile at her in adoration, "I'll also make a note to self that I don't deserve you."

She sighed and said sadly, "And I'll make a note to self, telling me not to get emotional over every little thing. You must think me so…infuriatingly fragile."

"No I don't," he answered definitively. "You're just not used to being dependant on someone else. And you have every right to be emotional after…everything. You don't have to pretend everything's fine when it's not."

For an instant Ruth did not respond, having ducked her head again, apparently struggling with herself over what to say. Eventually, she took a deep breath and said quietly, "It wasn't just the…hand thing. I did remember what you were saying and it…it just got to me."

"You don't have to tell me anything." Harry told her firmly, however curious he was. "If it's private to you then it's private."

"It is private," she agreed hesitantly. "But…but I do trust you not to…laugh or…or something like that-"

"I would never laugh." He said with such sincerity she instantly knew it was the truth.

She took another long deep breath, and considered what to say. "What do you remember me saying to you that day when we were on grid?"

"You said something about men only…only wanting sex from you…that they weren't very…"he shrugged vaguely, nervous about talking to her on such an intimate matter, despite being eager to find out what exactly had happened.

"I…"she said, struggling to find the right words for the conversation. "I…I don't want you to be the pity brigade either." She said, blanching and tensing before him. At that moment, he desperately wished that they were at home where he could hold her comfortingly when things got too difficult to say. However his heart also began to hammer, wondering what exactly had happened to her in her earlier life, to make it so difficult to discuss.

"I'll try not to be." He promised quietly.

She nodded and it took several attempts at opening her mouth before any sound actually came out. "I…I know that you're very…experienced at…well…women in general…especially physically." Harry knew immediately that she had of course read his shameful file. "But I've…I've only really been with…" she looked up at him nervously before sighing quietly, "with four men."

Harry let this sink in, staring at the woman he loved in shock for a moment, before he noticed how she was nervously looking round, as if half expecting people to be listening in to their conversation.

"Sweetheart," he said gently. "How about we go for a walk – just beside the Thames outside – so we can be somewhere more private."

Initially she looked worriedly into the dark night outside, and began to smooth down her skirt again, but after a few seconds she saw the genuine love in Harry's eyes and knew that she would be safe.

"Yes…" she said gratefully. "Yes please."

"I'll get the waiter to bring the bill." He said gently, turning towards the direction of the waiter who was serving a nearby table.

"We haven't finished dessert," she commented.

"Well," he said slowly. "I think my desert's already melted into oblivion." True enough, the miserable one lump of vanilla ice cream had become vanilla sauce.

"Then," she said shyly. "Then share mine?"

He loved the look of adoration she gave him, but turned her down nonetheless. "No, that was just for you."

"You've still got a spoon haven't you?" she asked bravely. "And I can't eat all of this by myself or the sickness tomorrow morning will be unbearable."

Harry smiled, bringing her hand that he had clamped so tightly, to his mouth and kissed it gently. "Alright."

* * *

><p>They strolled down the embankment, Harry holding Ruth's hand tightly in his own, admiring the lights of the city on a clear evening. A small group of adolescents, most likely on a drinking binge, shoved their way past them, and feeling Ruth tense, he removed his hand from hers and moved it protectively around her body, drawing her close to him. He looked down at her as she smiled gratefully, but he could see that her thoughts were otherwise elsewhere.<p>

"So," he said quietly as they took slow gentle steps along the pavement. "Four men?"

She looked down in shame but Harry would have none of it, and squeezed her side gently. "Yes." She replied quietly, before looking up at him in wonder. "You know, this is never a conversation I thought I would have with you…especially when I first met you nine years ago."

"Nine years ago – I don't think either of us could have imagined this happening." He said honestly. "You were my annoying employee who was infuriatingly enthusiastic about everything and had a taste for breaking desk lamps."

"Oi." She said, although she was smiling. "And you were my equally infuriating boss who wouldn't listen to a word I said."

"And up until very recently that didn't change." He nodded sadly, but she brought her right hand up around her waist to meet his, squeezing it gently.

"But you're listening now." She said comfortingly.

Harry's heart was almost overwhelmed with love for this woman and he kissed the top of her head tenderly. "Yes I am." He smiled encouragingly at her. "Four men?"

"Yes." She repeated, turning pale at obviously harsh memories.

"Is that four without me or four including me?"

"Including you." She replied subdued. "And the first two were about nothing but sex. They lasted one night before the man…well…upped at left."

Harry said nothing to Ruth, already feeling slightly overwhelmed that she trusted him this much now, to tell him all of this. Anger boiled furiously within him as he simply thought of all the men who had hurt her in such a way.

"I'd never really…well…I suppose I'd never really had an official relationship…well…erm…boyfriend until…well…George."

Amongst the shock of her admission, Harry's heart broke to think that he could have been the first one to have the pleasure of being her partner. Instead, George had taken that privilege.

"My first time was…well…I was a considered a bit of a…well…geek I suppose, and one boy made a bet with his friends that he could get me into bed within an hour of talking to me." Harry stopped, unable to take all of this in, and turned to look at her in horror. Her eyes were glazed over with unhappy memories. "It just so happened that the boy who made the bet was a boy I had…really, really liked for some time. So of course, you could imagine how I felt when he invited me to a party. I wasn't really the party type but…but he had invited me personally and I just…" she shrugged her shoulders, not quite knowing how to justify herself. Harry, who had a feeling he already knew where this was going, stayed perfectly silent but kept her close to him. "So of course I went and…and had my first taste of alcohol…it seemed like fun. I suppose I thought all my dreams had come true when that boy kept close to me all night, topping up my drink constantly." She sighed, and looked down at the floor, unable to look Harry in the eyes. "I still don't know exactly what happened but…well…I assume at some point when I was too drunk to notice he must have…slipped something into my drink."

Harry could not keep his anger at bay any longer and he stared at the woman he loved in horror, "Ruth, he didn't…"

Ruth could not even look up at him as he said those words, and he knew that he had got the general idea of what had happened. Without either of them really noticing, he clasped his other arm tightly around her, forming a protective cocoon, pulling her against him. If she was saying what he thought she was saying, those four men who had attacked her were not her first experience of rape, whether her younger experience was less serious or not. He kissed her hair gently as she found the courage to continue:

"I wasn't fully unconscious though…that's the thing," she whispered sadly, her chest rising and falling heavily in an attempt to keep calm. "Through the haze of it all, I could feel what was going on…I know it really…well…it bloody hurt." She smiled, trying to be brave and keep things light, however Harry was not fooled and found himself stroking her hair comfortingly. "Although I have to say," she said quietly. "It didn't hurt nearly so much as…"

Harry could see that she still could not talk fully about the attack, and he placed a tender kiss on in her hair to stop her from going on. "I know."

"Well," she said quietly, suddenly becoming aware that she had moved in to lean against his chest. "Anyway…I woke up next morning completely naked in a room that wasn't mine, with a lousy hangover and one heck of a lot of pain down below." She tried to conceal a sniff but it was too late, and Harry embraced her fully against him. "But at least the boy won his tenner." She finished bitterly.

"Ten pounds?" Harry snarled in disgust, wishing he could get his hands on that young man now. "What the…" he froze, it suddenly dawning on him just what she had been telling him. "How old were you Ruth?"

"Does it matter?" she asked, clearly ashamed of what she had already revealed.

"Yes." He said firmly.

She sighed and buried her face in his chest so that she was not looking him in the eye when she said, "Fifteen."

His grip tightened around her as he felt uncontrollable anger rear its ugly head, "Oh God…you were just a child. You were a minor. How old was he?"

"Seventeen." She mumbled. He seemed to have frozen and she mistook it for disgust; she attempted to pull away from him, and was relieved when he let her go. However his face contained no disgust, only love and anger, which she could tell was not directed at her.

"Bloody hell Ruth," he said gruffly, trying to keep his tone light despite his distress at hearing her story. "What on earth did you see in him?"

She saw it as more of a reprimand and she looked down at the floor, "I…I suppose I just…pick the wrong ones…never really had much luck with men."

"Didn't you tell anyone? Your parents? The police?"

She closed her eyes in shame, "I…I couldn't Harry."

He took her hand again and squeezed it to show he understood, realising she wanted to move on from the subject. "And the others?"

"The other one was when I was at University…I went on one date with an older man…after years of trying convince myself that seeing men wasn't going to…to hurt. He was a trader…seemed alright at first…he was charming enough over dinner but when we got back to his house…well…it was pretty clear that he was only interested in one thing." She paused, still unable to look up from the ground. "Af…Afterwards he told me to get out and…well…that was it."

Harry stared back at her in horror, unable to take in just how badly she had been treated by men. Suddenly a lot of things made sense, not least her shyness over dinner that time five years ago, and her seeming naivety over personal relationships. He found himself wondering just how hard she must have worked to become that happy go-lucky Ruth who had arrived on the grid nine years previously, after so much hurt.

"But George," he said desperately. "He…he was…surely he treated you well?"

"He did," she agreed sadly. "And he was a very good man. But he had lost his wife…so many years before and so when we…when we spent the night together…I think those feelings all came out at once…so that hurt quite a bit as well." She smiled bravely as she finally looked up and saw his look of horror, "But he was lovely about it…he realised what he'd done and he…he never once forced me or even suggested we did it again."

Harry stared at her for a moment longer before finally nodding, having to concede that in that moment he was extremely grateful to George for being so good to her. "I know he was a good man." He admitted. A thought suddenly struck him and his eyes widened at the mere suggestion of it.

"Ruth," he said fearfully. "When we…that night when we…" he flushed nervously but continued on. "Did I…I mean…did it hurt when we-"

"No." she said immediately, and with such sincerity that he was bowled over. "No it didn't…you didn't." she assured him, smiling genuinely now, inflating his heart.

"You were so kind and…gentle and…" she shook her head, unable to describe it any further. "If I," she said slowly. "If I was to have a baby with anyone…it would be you Harry Pearce."

Unable to help himself, his eyes filled with tears at her admission, and he cleared his throat gruffly before wrapping her in his arms once more. "The feeling's mutual." He whispered in her ear as she rested her head against his shoulder.

A few minutes passed before she began to shuffle away from him, looking more relaxed than she had done in years, as if talking to him at suddenly relieved her of an enormous amount of pressure. "So," she said, taking his hand and resuming their walk along the embankment. "What about you?"

"Me?" he asked cheekily, pretending not to know what she was going on about.

"Come on Harry," she teased, that wonderful sparkle back in stunning eyes. "If I have to reveal my shames, you have to as well."

"Except you have nothing to be ashamed of," he corrected her. "Particularly your first time – none of that was your fault."

"Harry." She said warningly, knowing he was purposely going off on a tangent.

"Okay," he sighed. "But I have to admit…I've been with…well…more women than I should have…I've done things I'm not proud of…slept with women I didn't even know the name of early on in the service…and in the army…one night stands." He watched her pale slightly, realising the similarities between both their stories, except they were on different sides, however she thankfully did not pull away. "And I know I can't put it down to the stress of the job…especially in my early days in MI5…I can just put that down to me being an arsehole."

She smiled and chuckled lightly at his admission, and he squeezed her hand gently. "But in terms of regular relationships there was of course, my wife Jane, who I was married to for eight years; she gave me two beautiful children, but I have to say I wasn't much of a husband or a father. I don't hold it against her that she divorced me, or against my children – one of which I haven't seen in years and the other is never in the country long enough to get to know properly." It was her turn to squeeze his hand in comfort, but he would not be consoled. "I really was a lousy father – I was patronising to my daughter, and I put so much pressure on my son he turned to drink and drugs rather than summoning the courage to tell me to back off. I missed Catherine's University graduation for God's sake-"

She could see he was beginning to get worked up, so she stopped him again and forced him to look at her with the touch of her left hand against his cheek. "But you're not that person anymore." She reminded him softly. "You can't turn back the clock and make things right. All we were and all we are Harry," she smiled encouragingly. "All we were is irrelevant if who we are now is better. You can always try and get in touch."

Harry stared at her, so touched by her speech that he could hardly speak. Instead he moved her hand from his cheek and kissed it, "I repeat for the second time tonight…I don't deserve you."

She blushed at the compliment and carried on walking; he took it as his cue to move on, "You know about Elena and Juliet," he said quickly, trying to make the images going through her mind less painful and it seemed to work for she only paled for a second. "That pretty much sums up my MI5 career. My first time was…" he thought back. "was when I was eighteen…we met during my first year at University…she was pretty and I was young and arrogant…she became my girlfriend but it was a matter of weeks before I realised she was actually a horrible person, and in no uncertain terms, a bully – so that didn't last long."

He looked down in shame as they walked, "Thus follows a long list of girls I had casual sex with. Some of them I think I went out with for a few weeks but that was it." He stopped suddenly and stared in horror at her pale face. "And I've just realised that the man I am describing is the exact semblance of those first two men who hurt you."

She looked into his eyes and stared, as if trying to work out a hard equation, before shaking her head and saying, "Maybe you were…but you're not that man now. The man I know would never do that. Besides," she reasoned. "However much you've changed, I don't think you would ever sleep with a girl for a bet, or throw her out afterwards. You have too much moral good in you."

He smiled gratefully at her, realising some of his old Ruth coming back to him – as she had been speaking to him just now, she was Ruth the independent analyst; the wise woman who had helped him through so many uncomfortable decisions.

"No," he agreed. "I wouldn't."

The conversation of relationships gradually drifted to a close, but they carried on talking and walking up the embankment, hand in hand. Once in a while, Harry would glance over at Ruth, to be welcomed with the most beautiful sight in the world. She seemed to have come over leaps and bounds in just one night – during their conversation she chatted to him confidently and with enthusiasm, a wide smile over her face and her gorgeous blue eyes sparkling against the streetlights. He felt that he did not want the night to end, but eventually Ruth's pace slowed, and her eyes were narrowed as if she was only just managing to keep them open. He pulled out his phone and called for a cab, keeping an arm around her shoulders to support her tired state.

By the time the taxi arrived, she was already half asleep in his arms, and he was holding her against his chest to prevent her from passing out onto the pavement. He manoeuvred her with difficulty in to the back of the taxi, and directed the driver where to go. He then looked back at her to find her fast asleep, head snuggled into his shoulder. Harry smiled at her peaceful state, never having seen her looking so contented since the night they had spent together six months ago, and he gently brought a hand around her shoulder to draw her close to him, and the other hand to rest lightly on her baby bump.

"Those men didn't realise what they had Ruth. I won't ever let anyone hurt you again sweetheart," he whispered in her ear, so that the driver could not hear. "Tonight's been the best night of my life, and I wouldn't change it for the world." He paused as she stirred against his shoulder, but did not wake up. The taxi kept on driving, sending her soothingly back to sleep. "I love you." He whispered gently, stroking her hair and cheeks until they reached home.

* * *

><p>As the taxi stopped outside his house, he paid the driver a good tip, and got out. He stared back at Ruth, deliberating whether to wake her; knowing that if he disturbed her from such a contented sleep now, the next time she drifted off she would probably be confronted with more nightmares. So ignoring the protests of his back, which had still not fully recovered from the last time he had carried her, he pulled her out of the cab and lifted her into his arms, carrying her over to the door.<p>

However as the taxi pulled out, he felt his heart stop briefly as he came face to face with those two men who had been waiting outside the house that morning. Shit. He had completely forgotten about he and Ruth being watched, having been so happy after their evening out.

The men had stepped out of the mondeo as the taxi drove on down the road, walking forwards to meet him. Harry stopped as they reached him, although Ruth's weight was still causing problems for his back.

"Harry Pearce." One of the men addressed him, quite plainly English. "We have to ask you where Ms Evershed and yourself have been this evening."

"Out." Harry replied shortly, not at all pleased at being bullied outside his own home. "And why have you been watching my house all day?"

"Out where?" the man demanded, ignoring Harry's own question.

Harry shifted Ruth against him, and replied, "That is none of you business."

"Yes it is sir." The other man argued. "And I suggest you tell us, or we'll have to arrest you without a plea in your defence."

"On what grounds?" Harry demanded furiously.

"On the grounds that just an hour ago, Joseph Willard was found murdered with a bullet in his chest, two blocks away from his workplace. And you're the prime suspect."

* * *

><p>Ruth stirred from her place on Harry's shoulder, only vaguely aware of how she had got into the taxi in the first place. Still, the humming of the car as it drove along was soothing, and she could feel Harry's warm arms tightly around her; so much so she felt so safe she was almost inclined to go back to sleep again. However, realising she must have rudely fallen asleep on their date, she sighed and opened her eyes. She was confronted with the sight of Harry's shoulder, making out the vague outlines of his jacket in the darkness, and she shifted against him in order to sit up.<p>

"Ruth?"

His arms relaxed around her slightly, gently helping her to sit up, whereby she promptly frowned and looed around her. Although she had been half asleep at the time of getting into the cab, she did not remember it being this shape, nor did she remember going the route they were currently travelling. From what she could make out, they were heading towards the centre of the city rather than away from it. She automatically began to breathe much faster and tried hard not to panic as she realised they were not in the taxi anymore. She glanced to the front of the car and saw those same two sinister looking men from that morning, staring straight ahead at the road. Ruth felt Harry squeeze her arm gently to try and calm her slightly, and she looked up at him in panic.

"Harry," she whispered so that the two men could not hear. "Harry what's happening? What's going on?"

"Sshh," he hushed her gently, stroking her hair away from her eyes. "We're being taken to see th Home Secretary."

"What?" she frowned, utterly confused but slightly relieved all the same. "Why?"

"Something's happened. Tonight." He whispered back.

"Harry…for God's sake…what's happened?" she asked, trying to calm her heavily beating heart, sleep far away now.

He hesitated, wondering whether drawing her back into the topic of Willard was going to make things worse again. However from her questioning eyes, he could see she had no intention of letting the subject drop.

"Joseph Willard, one of your…one of your attackers…was murdered tonight."

She visibly paled, even in the darkness of the car, and swallowed deeply, trying hard to remove those subconscious images from her mind. "So…so what does that mean?"

He knew her well enough to know that even after what the man had done to her, she would still never be glad over someone's death. He gazed at her in adoration for a moment over her choice of words before sighing, "We're…or rather I am the prime suspect for killing him. The CIA wants to draw blood; the only one stopping them from doing that is Towers, so we've got to see him."

She stared at him in horror, "Harry…they can't possibly think that you…that you killed him."

"Well they do." He sighed. "Apparently there's overwhelming evidence."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that I abducted Willard illegally into the threshold of MI5 without his consent, and promptly gave him a broken nose. I am also too personally involved in the case, and most likely let it get to me."

"But…but you…" she stuttered.

"We both know I was personally involved since you were attacked," he whispered gently, reaching up to stroke her cheek whilst she tried to take it all in. Among other things, she felt inexplicably numb at the thought that one of her assailants had finally met his end; it showed on her face. "They think I must have done it in revenge."

"But we were at the restaurant all night." She protested quietly.

"Doesn't make a difference," he shrugged, forcing himself to keep calm for her sake. She found it infuriating that he seemed resigned to his fate. "If the CIA wants to blame me, then they'll get their own way eventually."

"It could have been me," she argued. "I have more of a right to kill him."

He stared softly at her for a few moments before shaking his head, "No it couldn't have been you. You wouldn't kill a man in cold blood, even after what he did."

She looked down silently, "I've killed before." They both knew she was remembering defending herself and Deerey against the violent French assassin.

"Purely in defence." He replied. "But me – I've killed many people – far too many to really get away with. I have the perfect track record to blame me for something like this."

"But there's no evidence that you actually murdered him," she whispered desperately. "You weren't there at the time."

He smiled grimly, "Let's hope that and the Home Secretary works in my favour."

She suddenly felt her breathing become much more laboured in an attempt to stave off the panic. They had been so happy that evening – it was almost as if things had gone back to normal only were much better than before. Now their brief happiness was going to disappear yet again, and she could not help but feel bitter that their fate always seemed to end up in disaster. She subconsciously clung to his jacket tightly, and Harry, feeling her movement, wrapped his arms back around her equally tightly. If he had it his way, he would never let her go.

* * *

><p>Harry held Ruth's hand tightly as they strode along the corridors of Whitehall, both of them trapped sandwich-like between the two men. It felt odd roaming Whitehall at night, and he had to admit, in thirty years of working in MI5, he had rarely had the pleasure of doing so. He also had to admit that he felt rather relieved; even though the two men had all the right protocols to confirm they were who they said they were, he had been a little worried that it might have been a trap. But then again, he considered that this was paranoia setting in after doing the job for so long.<p>

The lights were only turned on a low setting, and so he had to squint in order to see properly, making out where he was by the various portraits that hung on the panelled walls leading up to the Home Secretary's office. If Towers usually worked until this time, Harry thought, then he was even barmier than his ex-staff on the grid. And even then, it was only he and Ruth that generally stayed that late, and months previously, Tariq had done so as well. Ruth, who had rarely had the authority or the opportunity to visit Whitehall, gripped his hand in return, feeling exceptionally anxious. Eventually they came to the large oak door at the end of the red carpeted corridor, and the party stopped outside. The large burly man in front knocked once before entering, a disgruntled Harry following with Ruth, without even having been asked in yet. He was in no mood for niceties tonight.

Towers stood with his back to them, staring out of the thick-glassed window behind his desk, as if in deep thought. Harry was suddenly reminded that he had not seen the man in a while; indeed the last time they had been in the same room together had been the awful day of the inquiry, culminating in Ruth being rushed to hospital with hypothermia. So now he rather thought that on reflection, Towers looked greyer and older than ever before – the effects of trying to run a nation that sometimes just did not seem to want to be run. Both Harry and Ruth had barely taken a few steps inside the office when their two messengers sidled back out, closing the door sharply behind them. Only then did the Home Secretary turn around, tired exasperated expression upon his face.

"Sit down." He said nonetheless courteously, and after a moment of hesitation, the pair walked slowly to two chairs opposite the desk and sat down, Harry still keeping hold of Ruth's hand underneath the desk. "My men have told you what happened this evening?"

"Yes," Harry snapped. "I was less than pleased to find two heavies cornering me outside me home, nor was I happy about the fact that you authorised them to watch the house all day. Since when was it necessary to spy on your own MI5 officers?"

"Since I was left no other choice." Towers growled back. "I'm not the bad guy here Harry, so don't try and make me out to be. There are higher levels of authorisation than me, believe me."

"Actually Home Secretary," Harry replied coolly. "I _do_ find that rather hard to believe."

"Well for now you can believe what you like. Right now, we've got a situation-"

"Yes we have," Harry growled. "You ordered two thugs to ambush us outside my house, promptly accuse me of killing a man, and then bundle us into a car to take us here."

"Oh come on Harry," Towers snapped back. "We both know you're quite capable of killing a man. The difference is that this time the opposing party isn't going to turn a blind eye."

"Well I didn't do it this time," Harry argued back. "Believe me, as much as I would have liked to, I didn't. I'm not so foolish as to do something like that, because I know very well what the outcome would be. A lifetime in a CIA containment facility in less than comfortable conditions – and that's putting it politely."

Towers stared at him for a few moments before sighing and flinging himself down into his squashy chair opposite them, "Call me a sucker or what Harry, but I believe you. You've given good service to this country, regardless what you've done of late. And even then, I don't believe you would throw it all away by making such a stupid mistake."

"You're right," Harry muttered under his breath so that Towers could not hear him. "If it was me, I would make certain I actually hid the body."

Ruth however heard him loud and clear, and wide-eyed she whirled her head round to stare at him, but he was smiling humorously at her. She took the joke and smiled back rather nervously. Towers was continuing to speak:

"I'll stand by you on this Harry, as much as I can," Towers assured him. "But there's only so much I can do. And especially your track record and your…personal relationships…"

His eyes drifted over Ruth who swallowed and flushed deep crimson at his owl-like stare, wanting desperately for the floor to swallow her up. She just wanted to go home, however after a moment it became apparent that he was not going to shift his gaze anytime soon, so she sucked in a deep breath and stared right back with as much dignity as she could muster. Eventually, Towers seemed to get bored, so he removed his stare and instead leant forward to Harry, clasping his hands together on the desk in front of him.

"I have to ask you though Harry," he said quietly. "Where were you this evening?"

"I'm grateful for your support Home Secretary," Harry assured him gratefully. "But our business tonight isn't really of any concern to you."

"It is if you want me to fight your corner." Towers replied tiredly.

Harry sighed and glanced at Ruth, as if asking her silent permission to reveal what they had been doing. She hesitated for only a second before realising that this had to be done for Harry's sake, and she nodded and smiled reassuringly.

"We were having dinner Home Secretary." Harry replied, smiling gratefully back at Ruth. "Dinner at the Fratelli's Italian Restaurant on Maynard Road, a few blocks away from my house."

Towers actually raised half a smile, "Is that all? By the secrecy you were implying I was assuming it was quite a bit more…erm…adventurous than that." He raised his eyebrows slightly suggestively and Ruth swallowed yet again, ducking her head away from the Home Secretary's gaze this time. She felt Harry squeeze her hand yet tighter in understanding of her feelings towards that kind of activity just yet.

"Well, I'll do all I can for you with the American's." Towers nodded. "But I needed to hear it for myself to know that it wasn't actually you. Although you do know that you picked the worst night to go to dinner…worst decision since the Captain of the Titanic said 'oh no let's carry on, it's only an iceberg'."

Harry frowned, "Home Secretary where on earth are all these Titanic analogies coming from?"

"It's because I feel like we're on a sinking ship," he replied, a gaunt expression suddenly flooding across his face. "You…me…all of us."

"Very pessimistic." Harry replied.

Just as suddenly as the gaunt expression had come over his face, it disappeared and Towers snapped back to reality, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to get a tail on you permanently now. I'll do my best, but you're still the Americans' favourite scapegoat."

"He had a wife and child." A quiet saddened voice floated across the room, and both Harry's and Towers' head whirled round to stare at Ruth. She was sitting back in her chair, staring straight ahead of her, almost as if in some sort of meditative trance with her eyes wide and unhappy. "The Americans' are worrying about who to blame when the main factor here is that this evening a wife lost her husband, and a daughter lost her father."

Harry's features softened tremendously as he stared at her; even with considering who the victim was, she was still analysing who was going to suffer most…still caring who was going to be affected by the event.

"Ms Evershed's right," Towers nodded briskly. "The other main factor here is that if it wasn't you Harry, who was it? Because if I do manage to convince the Americans' that you're innocent, then they're going to be looking for a new scapegoat. It's a good thing that there's no evidence that you were there or they would use that straight away-"

"S…sorry." Ruth stuttered, interrupting him so that once again both heads turned to look at her. She appeared nervous for a few seconds before finally summoning the courage to say aloud, "But…well it may be a little far-fetched but…Coaver and-" she stopped, looked at the doubtful Towers before amending herself. "It's _possible_ that Willard may have been in league with a maverick group of Americans…or it's possible that he was doing something under Coaver's orders," she was being terribly vague, but she stared directly at Harry as she said it so that he would understand her meaning even if Towers did not. "But either way…Coaver's the link – he knows both the Gavriks' and he knew Willard-"

"What's this got to do with the Gavrik's'?" Tower demanded, frowning.

"-So they're both loosely connected." Ruth continued, bravely ignoring her superior's argument. "What if the same the person who tried to assassinate Elena, succeeded in assassinating Willard tonight?"

Harry stared right back at her, knowing exactly what she was implying. Somehow, she thought that Coaver was mixed up in this, though quite why he would murder one of his own side was beyond him, but it all made sense.

"You're right, it is too far-fetched Ms Evershed." Towers agreed, rolling his eyes before rubbing them tiredly. "There is absolutely no connection between the two cases. What exactly is the connection between Willard and the Gavrik's – they never met before! Unless you're implying that Coaver is responsible for this which is completely ridiculous."

There was a sudden loud rap on the oak door, and all three of the occupants in the room jumped slightly. "Come in." Towers called.

To both Harry and Ruth's surprise, Dimitri entered through the door a moment later; he looked just as shocked to see them, however he maintained his professional composure, having not been invited to Whitehall before, and nodded politely at them before turning to Towers.

"Dimitri Levendis sir," he introduced himself. "You sent for me."

Harry and Ruth exchanged surprised glances, extremely surprised that Towers would send for him rather than Erin, and they were curious as to what the Home Secretary exactly wanted him for.

"Ah yes," Towers said briskly, getting to his feet and offering the young man his hand. Dimitri shook it courteously before following him further into the depths of the room. He took a brief closer look at Harry and Ruth, both of whom he had to say looked extremely well considering – in fact, he dared to think they looked better than they had ever seen them, regardless of the night's events which had been explained to him just over an hour ago. He was especially glad to see Ruth looking so much better, that sparkle of blue eyes slowly returning and her cheeks even seemed fuller and more colourful. "Mr Levendis, I assume one of my staff told you of the situation?"

"Yes." Dimitri replied, giving a sideways glance at Harry, as if to figure out whether he had really killed Willard. It did not fill Harry with much confidence that even his most loyal officer was questioning his innocence.

"I want you in charge of the investigation into Joseph Willard's murder." Towers was saying shortly. "I'm not having the ordinary bobby's dealing with this; I want the professionals working on this and I'm told that you're very good."

"Erm…" stuttered, turning red at the older man's forwardness. "Erm…yeah I guess so. But wouldn't Erin Watts be mor-"

"I'm having Miss Watts take over full authorisation over the Gavrik case and she shall continue to work alone in securing this damn British-Russian treaty with Ilya Gavrik." He looked very grim for a moment, and Harry rather suspected that Towers secretly thought the same thing about the agreement as he did – that it caused more harm than good. "Let's see if she can use her feminine charm shall we?"

Harry almost snorted at Towers' naivety; Ilya Gavrik was far too proud and far too clever to let himself be taken along for the ride with an attractive young woman. He had to admit that he was more concerned for Erin's safety than for Ilya's; even though times had changed massively since the Cold War years, he could not help but remember the chilling stories he had been told of Gavrik's interrogation methods.

"Right," Dimitri nodded. "I'll get the rest of the team onto Willard's murder as of tomorrow."

Towers looked as if he was about to argue that the investigation should be started straight away, but he glimpsed the clock on the mantle pointing to twenty five minutes past midnight, and he nodded. "Of course – good man."

With that, he dismissed the young man with a wave of his hand, and with one last brief smile in Harry and Ruth's direction, Dimitri headed through the door. Towers sighed and ran his hands over his eyes once more before striding back around his desk and sitting down exhausted in his chair. After about a minute of not saying anything, Harry decided it may be prudent to speak soon or none of them would be getting any sleep that night.

"Is there anything we can do Home Secretary?" he asked casually, and he felt rather than saw Ruth's smile from next to him at his less than innocent remark.

"Yes." Towers snapped, not even bothering to look up from his desk. "Stay out of trouble and stop making my job a living hell!"

Harry ended up smiling at this too, very glad that the Home Secretary could not see his and Ruth's expressions.

"Are we permitted to go home?" Harry asked innocently, feeling Ruth's grip on his hand weaken as she gradually grew more tired.

"Yes I suppose you are," Towers sighed. "But I've got to stay here and kiss the bottoms of some very angry Americans; not to mention trying to fight your corner-"

"Thank you Home Secretary."

"-Again."

"Thank you Home Secretary."

Ruth's smile widened, regardless of her tiredness and she had to duck her head to conceal it; she realised that Harry must really be anxious to get home if he was performing dodgy jokes to a less than impressed Home Secretary. Towers meanwhile finally looked up from his desk and glared at Harry for his pedantic comment.

"Get out." He said shortly.

Nodding, Harry made to get up, taking Ruth with him. Together they exited the office, leaving a disgruntled Home Secretary staring after them.

* * *

><p>Towers' men were especially kind in that they refused to provide transport back home, so that Harry, very thankful that he still had his wallet on him, was forced to hail a cab. He was just stepping towards the edge of the pavement when a familiar blue Skoda pulled up in front of them, the young driver poking his head out of the window.<p>

"Dimitri." Harry said surprised.

"I figured you might need a lift." Dimitri shrugged. "Although I'd get in quick because the CCTV around here is incredibly tight and I'm not really supposed to be around you anymore."

"Right." Harry nodded, looking back towards Ruth who was yet again half falling asleep against the stone steps. He walked over to her and pulled her gently to her feet, "Come on sweetheart," he whispered. "We'll be home soon."

He saw that she was comfortably in the back seat before sliding in next to her and closing the door behind him. Dimitri quickly pulled out from the pavement and into the reasonably clear road. There was silence for a moment, in which Harry reflected on just how awkward it was to be relying on his young ex-officer all the time. He vowed that if he was still his officer, his pay packet would be exceptionally large.

"So," Dimitri said from the front. "How are things?"

"Dimitri," Harry said smilingly. "I think you're about the only person I know who after all that's happened of late and especially tonight, would try to make small talk to their disgraced boss."

Dimitri shrugged, "I figured that since I'm doing my impression of a taxi, I might as well act like a taxi driver – do the whole talking to the customer thing."

"Right," Harry smiled. "Thanks for that. Only in the event that you use this legend for following operations, be warned that not all customers like to be talked to – they prefer their own company."

"Fair dos." Dimitri replied grinning. He checked briefly in his rear view mirror and caught a glimpse of Ruth fast asleep with her head lolling on Harry's shoulder. At about the same moment, Harry noticed the same thing and smiled at their new-found intimacy tonight.

"Is she okay?" Dimitri asked, needless to expand on who he was talking about.

"She's much better, thank you." Harry replied gratefully. "Tonight I think I saw just a little bit of the old Ruth there. I…I've missed her." He admitted slowly, before adding inwardly that he loved her all the same, in fact recently, all the more.

"I think we all have." Dimitri replied.

"How is work?" Harry asked and noticing Dimitri's heavy sigh he added. "I don't mean what's going on – you know me better than that. I mean how are things? Are they stressful?"

"Believe me Harry," Dimitri grinned. "Whether or not I'm feeling stressed at work is never a conversation I thought I would have with you."

"Why do people keep saying that to me tonight?" Harry wondered aloud, remembering Ruth's comment about her discussing things with him. "Do I usually give off this impression of being pompous workaholic who thinks he always knows best?"

"No comment." Dimitri replied cheekily.

"Driver, I think I want to get out now." Harry joked feebly, but chuckled all the same.

Gradually silence wore out again, and Harry stared out of the window, recognising the various landmarks which led to his house. He heard a sharp intake of breath from Dimitri as if he was about to ask a question but thought better of it. Harry knew immediately what he was going to ask and decided to save him the trouble, "No I didn't kill Willard."

He heard Dimitri release the breath again, exceptionally relieved that his boss hadn't been involved in the investigation he was going to lead.

"If I'd been given half a chance I might have killed him." Harry admitted honestly. "But I didn't."

Dimitri was extremely touched at Harry's openness of affections towards Ruth and he smiled. A thought that had occurred to him whilst he had been with Towers in the office suddenly struck him again.

"Harry," he said slowly.

"Hhmm?"

"I can't help thinking that maybe we're being throw a red herring."

Harry smiled, "You know I'm unbelievably glad you said that."

"Why?"

"Because I've been thinking the same thing."

"That Willard's death is just a bone to throw us to stop us from investigating the Gavrik case any further?"

"Exactly, or rather, that's what Ruth intimated to me anyway." He said, amazed at how he was able to understand Ruth's unspoken messages to him these days.

"She's a smart woman." Dimitri whistled.

"Yes she is." Harry replied proudly, kissing the top of her head as she slept.

"Wait," Dimitri said quickly. "Does that mean the Home Secretary's deliberately leading us astray?"

"No," Harry said certainly. "No I don't think he's smart enough to be involved. But whoever is behind this… a murder of an important CIA officer is the perfect excuse to shift officers off the Gavrik case and onto this one. Particularly when all the evidence points to me."

"But what does…well…whoever is responsible gain from taking you out of the picture."

"Not just whoever," Harry corrected, thinking back to Ruth's explanation and memories of long ago. "Coaver. Jim Coaver. I have information which could probably bring him and his operation down…hence why I think he ordered the attack on Ruth."

"Because she's so clever she'd work it all out. That night at her house she was reading files on James Coaver…they were the ones that were stolen." He slapped the steering wheel as it all finally pieced together. "Of course!"

"What about the memory stick that Ruth had in her desk?" Harry asked, suddenly remembering. "Did Calum manage to unencrypt it?"

"No." Dimitri sighed. "We were told to drop the investigation."

"Well, where's the stick now?"

Dimitri opened his mouth to reply before realising that he did not actually know where it was. He had not seen it since the day Ruth had had a panic attack on the grid.

"Oh God." He sighed.

"Let me guess," harry said dryly. "You've not seen it."

"Nope."

"Someone's interfering with this investigation." Harry said strongly. It was then he decided that things had gone far enough. He looked down at Ruth's sleeping form next to him and prayed she would understand what he was going to do if she found out.

"Dimitri," Harry said quietly, just in case he woke her up. "Do remember that offer you made me?"

Dimitri had to think for just a second before he nodded, his heart pounding. "Yeah."

"I think it's time we question Jim Coaver."

"He won't come in by choice, especially after tonight."

"No," Harry said grimly. "I know he won't."

Dimitri sighed, taking one look in the wing mirror at Ruth again before nodding, "Right," he said determinedly. "What do you need me to do?"

**Okay...I really hope you liked that because I was especially nervous about this one. Next up Harry being reuinted with Coaver, a few loose plot ends are tied up and...I'll see how it goes from there. Please review...I love to know what you think xxx **


	29. Chapter 29

**Sorry this is so short - it's mainly just a filler, but I have to say that it's been incredibly hard to write this story lately, because I think perhaps it's getting a little bit boring. But as long as you still want it, I'll continue writing. Here's something I _have_ written, just because I thought I had better post something, even though it's not much. I hope you are still liking it even though some of you seemed disappointed by the last chapter. If you have any requests on what you'd like to hapn I'm more than happy to include them. Please R&R.**

Almost three weeks had passed since Willard's murder, and although things had never been better between Harry and Ruth, they were both very much aware that their freedom was somewhat limited, and was likely to be snatched away in the near future. The service had taken to alternating between four men, two of which would watch the house in the daytime, and the other two would take over night duty, As a result of this, both Harry and Ruth never really felt much desire to leave the house, because they would then be tailed for the majority of the afternoon, something which neither of them relished. A week into this new prison cell treatment, Ruth had been contentedly cleaning the dishes when she saw quite plainly the shadow of a man through the stained glass of the back door, immediately becoming distressed over the thought that her attackers had come back. Both Harry and Scarlet had rushed to her side immediately, Scarlett barking loudly, her little teeth bearing nastily at the intruder, whilst Harry had kept his hand gun from the bedroom upstairs clutched tightly in one hand. With the other he had flung open the door only to come face to face with one of their watchers, who was less than apologetic at his new position around the back of the house. This had made Harry even more furious than he already was, and Ruth only just managed to refrain him from actually shooting the man; however he himself made no apologies to the guard for Scarlett promptly urinating on his shiny patent leather shoes. That evening, much to her joy, Scarlett had received double helpings as a special treat, or as Ruth put it, a reward.

Due to this heightened security, Harry had barely had an opportunity to make contact with Dimitri over their plans to get to Coaver. He could not go out without being followed by two extremely irritating watchers who always seemed to dress exasperatingly conspicuously in sunglasses and suits, whilst he would not put it past the British Government to monitor his phone calls or emails, and he did not want Dimitri getting in trouble for this if he could help it. It was not even as if he could pick Ruth's brilliant brain over the problem, as she of course knew nothing about his plan to interrogate Coaver, and he knew exactly what she would say if she did – do not take risks. He was however prepared to take the risk this time if it meant solving these matters once and for all; framing him so that he may be liable to spend the rest of his life in an American prison, away from the woman he loved and his unborn child was the last straw. Although when he considered this seriously, both ways he was likely to be taken by the Americans – either for killing Willard, or for kidnapping one of the CIA's most senior members of staff. He had to keep himself going on the thought that doing this would get answers necessary for Ruth's complete recovery. Until they found out all the information about that dreadful night, she was never entirely going to have closure over it, as was amply demonstrated each night when she began screaming in the throws of her horrible nightmare. He had gathered that it was the same one all the time, and it kept returning – sometimes more horrifying and gruesome than the last. Harry had also assessed that the nightmares recurred at virtually the same time each night at around eleven o'clock, and so, if he was careful, he and Dimitri may be able to complete their task at night with him settling Ruth from her dreams, before sneaking out without the worry of her waking up. This was of course, all purely theoretical, as he had had not chance to speak to Dimitri since the night of Willard's murder.

He sat now in the sitting room, opposite Ruth who was concentrating furiously on the scrabble board between them, head in her hands and frowning to herself in a most adorable fashion. With their suspension, a new addition to their Thursday afternoons had become Scrabble playing, during which Ruth had naturally won all of the games. It was odd, Harry thought, that sitting around playing board games would have been the height of boredom for him and his itch to get back into the job, making a difference; yet playing with Ruth was a different story. Not only was it such a perfectly domestic activity that they were able to pleasantly feel almost like a normal couple, but with Ruth as his opponent, he was able to have a far more interesting and challenging game than he had had in years. On the rare occasions in which he and Jane had played Scrabble, he had always won with distinction, leaving Jane, who ironically was an English teacher, behind in double digits. Harry had no doubt that he had been an infuriating opponent to her, and had briefly worried that Ruth would think the same. She had soon proved him wrong by holding her own quite well in the game, although he supposed he should have guessed that after all – she was fluent in twelve languages and studied classics for fun. What was a simple like scrabble to a brilliant woman like that?

She suddenly moved swiftly, a triumphant smile drifting over her face, and he was completely unsurprised when she lifted all of the letters of her bench and placed them neatly down on to the board, connecting to his cleverly put down 'prayed' and across the triple word score.

"That'll be ninety nine please." She said innocently, as if making such a score on a scrabble board was a normal occurrence for her.

Harry, who had been keeping the points on a small notepad next to the board frowned mockingly, "Never!"

"It is." She insisted smilingly. "It's thirty seven for my word, plus the twelve from yours because the d's meet, and I've used all seven of my letters which means I get fifty points."

Harry shook his head and rolled his eyes teasingly, and looked down at the board. He almost laughed out loud when he saw she had put the 'abdomen' down, when her own abdomen was now expanding by the day. For a month or so, she had taken to wearing maternity clothes because she was finally eating enough that the baby was feeling the effects of it and growing at a normal, healthy rate. This of course meant that she could barely stand up and walk a distance without feeling tired, and as she put it, the pressure on her stomach had caused her to start waddling like a penguin whenever she moved. She had also had several scans and check-ups at the hospital, all indicating things were perfectly fine, but she still refused to know the gender of the baby, reasoning that with just over seven months to her due date, she could wait that time to get her surprise. Harry suddenly became aware that he was staring unashamedly at Ruth's stomach, and she was quite clearly noticing, blushing furiously under his intense gaze.

"Sorry," he said hastily, reaching for the pad and pen once again, waiting a few seconds before muttering. "Can't help myself."

Ruth said nothing, but a small smile played on her lips for a moment, which she efficiently erased when he looked up again after recording her score.

"Want to quit Harry, or would you like to get beaten even further?" she questioned him sweetly.

He chuckled, "It would probably be the sensible idea to quit because there's no doubt that you've already won, but somehow I can't quite seem to grasp the word 'quit'."

"It's because you're so stubborn." She said cheekily.

"Excuse me," Harry teased, folding his arms across his chest in mock indignation. "Do the words pot, calling, kettle, and black mean anything to you?"

"Yes," she said seriously. "They're all words which I have used in the past to beat you…which apparently I am going to do a second time."

Harry laughed, "Why do I even bother to play? It's a given that you've beaten me before I've already started."

"Oh I don't know Harry," she said quietly. "I seem to recall that you're pretty good at beating the odds, even when they're a thousand to one against you."

"Spook tendencies." He nodded.

"No," she said smiling. "Harry Pearce tendencies."

There was a moment of mutual silence, which was suddenly broken by the distinct ringing of the doorbell, and they momentarily froze. Another few seconds must have passed because the doorbell sounded again insistently, and their eyes met over the scrabble board. Ruth stared at Harry nervously, and he tried to smile reassuringly back, but did not quite manage it as he himself was most confused as to who it could be. They never had any visitors, either family or friends, and even if they did, the heavies in the car outside would have put pay to that. It was only when the doorbell came for a third time that Harry was spurred enough to answer it, and squeezing a nervous Ruth's hand gently, he got to his feet and headed out of the sitting room into the hall. Although the front door was made entirely of wood, he could hear whoever was on their doorstep shifting about outside, and satisfied that no ill-boding foe would act in this way, he opened the door.

He opened his mouth in surprise as he assessed who was on the doorstep, "Dimitri?" He consciously looked around the young man at the car just outside the house, in which the two men were staring inactively at them with great interest.

"Hi Harry." Dimitri answered, also turning around and viewing the two men a little awkwardly.

"What…well…what are you doing here? Not that it's not nice to see you of course but…"

Getting straight to the point, Dimitri nodded and delved his hand his black jacket pocket, "I've got a message for you from the Home Secretary." He said drawing out to sheaths of paper and handing them to the older man. "Basically Willard's family are putting pressure on the CIA to avenge his death…and we're not talking about a slapped wrist."

"No I had guessed as much." Harry nodded, opening the pieces of paper and reading the first page.

"Towers wants to see you about this on Sunday – apparently he's having a bit of a hard time convincing the Americans of your innocence, and it doesn't help that this has been brought to head with your inquiry panel."

"Oh God," Harry said with realisation. "Is that still going on?"

"I'm afraid so," Dimitri sighed. "And what is more, the leader of your inquiry panel…um…Karen something I think her name was-"

"Oh I know her." Harry sighed, suddenly feeling a whole lot darker than he had just a few minutes ago.

"…Well apparently she's been talking with the Americans, and also seems pretty convinced that you've done this out of revenge for Ruth. I mean look at the evidence Harry…you lied about your feelings for her, got her pregnant, lied about Albany affair, and are now living with her…I'd say that gives them a good long list of things to argue that your lying yet again over your innocence."

Harry sighed, "That's a rather blunt way to put it but I suppose it's what I deserve. You're right. Tell Towers I'll see him on Sunday then." He looked at Dimitri and frowned. "Since when did you become the Home Secretary's messenger boy? Why not those two over there?" he asked, nodding towards the two men still watching carefully from the car.

"Believe me Harry," Dimitri said downheartedly. "I've been asking myself the same question for three weeks running…since we met after Willard's death…he seems to have taken a bit of a shine to me."

Harry raised his mouth into a smile, despite the fact he was still reading the bad news within the document given to him, "See, it's not only the ladies who are impressed by you is it? Has Towers not heard of the technical age?" he continued bemusedly. "He could have just called me to tell me this."

"Your phones been tapped Harry," Dimitri said quietly. "CIA policy with people they consider to be…a risk. Towers can't risk his career by being known to be helping you."

Harry sighed and nodded, his fears about the phones being bugged confirmed. "Right." He said heavily. "So he sent you round here with the message."

"He's been doing the same with Erin as well," Dimitri sighed. "Except she's a little bit more…impatient with him."

"Why's that?" Harry asked, looking up from the letter in surprise, remembering the ambitious young woman he had bet only a few months ago, who would have given her eyeteeth to get where she was now – Head of the Department.

"Well for starters," Dimitri complained. "He's got her babysitting the Gavrik's all day…making them cups of tea and stuff. She said that if she had wanted to be a secretary and serve drinks all day long, she wouldn't have spent so much money studying at Cambridge."

"Ouch." Harry smiled.

"Yeah," Dimitri said, shaking his head. He looked carefully at Harry before saying, "Things have really changed since you and Ruth left…and I mean really changed. At least when you left before it was still under minor offences and you were still likely to come back. We had Ruth as well and she…well…even if people didn't realise she kept things together then…they realise it now." Harry could think of no other response to this but a brief smile. "But now, you two have gone, Tariq's gone, and Erin's not even the one giving the orders."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked frowning.

"On paper Erin and I are in charge of the department and in running these operations, but in practise we get some blockhead called Bilberry that 'our seniors' have arranged to send us, coming in each morning to make sure we're doing things correctly, and as ordered." Harry sighed in sympathy and Dimitri looked back at him once more. "You never seemed to have the problem of being the Home Secretary's minion." He commented.

Harry laughed, "That's because he seemed to realise that doing anything like that would make us permanent enemies, and that's not a good idea considering he's involved in day-to-day running the country, and I'm in charge of day-to-day security. Besides," he smiled sadly. "Look where my recklessness got me."

He spread his arms wide and gestured towards his house and scruffy jumper and trouser attire.

"A spared life, a beautiful woman and a baby on the way?" Dimitri suggested honestly, not taking the bait to boost Harry's self-pity.

"Fair point." Harry chuckled, automatically looking back into the hall to check if Ruth had ventured out of the living room yet. She had not, and Harry was just about to go and fetch her to say hello to Dimitri when the young man smiled warmly.

"Well I've got to go." He sighed. "No rest for the weary."

Harry hesitated in disappointment, hoping he was going to have the chance to form some sort of plan with Dimitri about Coaver, even with those two men watching. However he knew how tight a schedule he must have and so he nodded, "Right…yes." He smiled. "No rest for the weary – MI5 in a nutshell."

"Right." Dimitri smiled, for some reason staring at the letter for an instant then back at Harry, before nodding awkwardly, turning round and walking awkwardly back down the garden path. Harry frowned, rather bewildered by Dimitri's moment of odd behaviour, and he too stared down at the letter. All it seemed to be was the message from the Home Secretary and his frown deepened, wondering if Dimitri had perhaps come up with a plan after all, and managed to hide it within the letter. He could not see anything out of the ordinary; the message contained the Home Secretary's handwriting on the same cream writing paper he usually used – was he being paranoid? He decided he surely was as he watched Dimitri drive off; the two men watching him pass intently before returning their gaze to Harry. In return, Harry shook his head once and slammed the door behind him, purposely blocking their view. Sighing, he skim-read the Home Secretary's letter once more before half-heartedly flicking the page over to read the other side. It was then his heart skipped a beat, and he finally understood what Dimitri had been getting at when he had looked shiftily at the underside of the letter. Although the second page of the letter consisted of the same quality paper as the Home Secretary had used, the handwriting was quite plainly not Towers'. It was in fact typed, purposely so that it would be harder to trace back to Dimitri, Harry realised with a smile. Nevertheless, it was quite plainly from Dimitri and he smiled at the young officer's resourcefulness; it seemed Dimitri had found a way of working his messenger-boy status into their plans. Carefully looking round to check that Ruth had remained in the sitting room, Harry began to read.

_At 11:13 a car crash shall occur on your street, surrounded by passers-by, one of which shall desperately ask your three friends for help. Based on the assumption that only two of three will abandon their post – one at the front and the back, I shall meet you round the back at 11:15, but not before you assure them of your presence by showing a shocked face in the window. Explain the rest then. _

Harry's smile widened as he finished reading the small print, folding the second page up carefully and placing it in his pocket. Dimitri's plan was somewhat amateurish, and Harry could immediately spot flaws in which things could go drastically wrong, but at least the young man paid the initiative. Harry very much doubted whether Dimitri had got Erin and Calum in on the act, and so he could not imagine where he was going to get the spare officers to pull off this little shenanigan, especially without Towers and swarming senior officials realising something more extreme was afoot.

Yet it was the only plan they had, and Harry could not see himself getting many more opportunities to execute something like this, and the more he fell in love with Ruth each day, the more he desired to interrogate Coaver over her attack. He really had no choice but to trust in the young man's abilities, and pray he had been right to hold him in such high-esteem when he was on the grid. He was of course, not forgetting that Dimitri was putting his career on the line as well, and should his part in this be discovered, he would be in even more trouble than Harry himself.

"Harry?"

Harry whirled round as he was confronted with Ruth's voice behind him, and he was very glad he had already placed Dimitri's note in his pocket. Instead he was left clutching the Home Secretary's letter. She no longer looked frightened as she did a few minutes previously, but concerned at the odd frown written across his face.

"Are you okay?" she asked gently, approaching him slowly with her eyes straying cautiously over the letter. He followed her eyes and tried to smile confidently, despite the inward feeling of guilt as he knew he was going to be intentionally lying to her all evening until quarter past eleven tonight.

"It's a letter from the Home Secretary." He said quietly. "Saying that he's having an excessive amount of trouble in dealing with the Americans – they still believe that I was responsible for Willard's death." He consulted the letter once more. "He wants to meet on Sunday, but he can't see this ending well. Willard's family are demanding justice."

Ruth swallowed and shook her head desperately, "No…you haven't done anything wrong…we both know it." She looked up at him with those deep blue orbs. "You promised you wouldn't risk anything like that and you kept your word."

Harry wanted to cry inwardly, as she could not possibly have selected a worse sentence to comfort him that he was doing the right thing. The only thing that stopped him confessing there and then was the thought that in the long-run, interrogating Willard and learning the truth would help Ruth to move on properly.

"I…I know." He said, feeling awful. "But try telling that to the Americans."

"They have no proof that you did it."

"But similarly, they have no proof that I didn't do it." Harry sighed. "And to them, that's enough. The CIA is a close-knit community, especially the ones that work in England."

"What's going to happen?" she asked fearfully, subconsciously placing her hand on her expanding stomach. "Are they…they won't take you away will they…they won't hurt you."

Harry knew he really ought to tell her the truth that this was probably exactly what was going to happen, but he could not bring himself to. In fact…no…he would not let it be true. He had a responsibility to Ruth and the baby and there was no way on earth he was going to abandon that.

"No," he said firmly. "I'm not going anywhere."

She fiddled nervously with the buttons of her cardigan, before Harry caught her hand and squeezed it gently.

"Now I believe I was beating you at scrabble?" he said cheekily, ignoring the feeling of excessive weight from the letter in his pocket.

"Excuse me?" she argued back, smiling. "_You_ were beating _me_?"

* * *

><p>Harry quietly shut Ruth's bedroom door, having finished rocking her to sleep from her insistent nightmares, and he made his way downstairs. His heart was already at a low, as it almost broke every time he saw her in such a state, despite being used to the routine by now. As usual, she had not regained consciousness in order to realise she had been having nightmares, and he hoped that would remain so. After tonight, he hoped things would be cleared up enough to get past the nightmares and move on to looking forward to the baby's arrival. He dodged Scarlett who was trotting dolefully (as she always was after hearing Ruth scream) upstairs to sit by Ruth's door.<p>

"If I didn't know any better dozy dog," Harry said amusedly, despite his nervousness. "I would say that you prefer her to me."

The little dog ignored him and continued to make her way upstairs to her position as self-appointed guard dog.

"Then again," Harry sighed as he watched her tail disappear onto the landing. "I don't blame you at all."

He consulted his watch at swallowed his nervousness. 11:11. Apart from anything, he was worried about leaving Ruth alone in the house for the first time since he went to work that day months ago. Rationally, he knew that she would be safe with people watching the house, but suppose irony hit and the same distraction they used to get him out was used to let people in. He could not bear it if she got hurt again, but there were no stopping events now. Dimitri had organised everything and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He breathed in deeply and closed his eyes in order to remain calm. He self-consciously straightened his black sweater so that the hem was equal along the lining of his black trousers. He smiled to himself briefly – he had automatically dressed in black for the operation, just as he used to do during his early days in MI5 – some things never changed. He sucked his teeth impatiently as 11:12 came and went, and he was almost convinced that the noise would just not come when at forty seconds past 11:13 the bone-crunching sound of splintering metal and screeching car tyres clashed. Dimitri need not have told him to look out of the window for it was an automatic reaction and in his hurry to get to the sitting room window he heard a whoosh of flames erupt from outside. He pushed the curtain aside just in time to see flames shoot up from the bonnet of a very smashed Vauxhall, which had none-too-surprisingly collided with another parked car at the end of the street. He heard the shouting, the careering down the street, and the sound of a fire engine in the distance. The men watching him in the car at the front of the house had noticed him looking and were staring warningly at him, their attention only drawn away when a young man Harry thought he vaguely recognised from somewhere tore up the street clamouring inaudibly about the 'accident'. He closed the curtain just in time to see just one of the men stepping out of the car, just as Dimitri had suspected. Thinking it was rather a stroke of luck, he made his way through to the end of the house, and into the kitchen towards the back door. Unlike a few minutes before, there was no longer the shadow of a man visible through the bobbly glass, and he opened it a crack to make sure. As if it was a complete miracle, the man guarding the back door had also been taken along for the ride at the scene of the accident. Harry took a moment to marvel at Dimitri's exceptional spook skills, before he came face to face with the man himself at the open back door.

"Remember me?" he asked cheekily, panting slightly, and Harry could only assume he had run from the car to collect him.

"Vaguely." Harry answered smiling slightly. "Didn't you used to work for me?"

"Over and above the call of duty?" Dimitri asked. "I think I did." He then looked serious. "And it really will be the past tense if we don't get a move on."

"Right." Harry nodded, reaching inside his pocket for the key to lock the back door. He was just stepping out when he hesitated, his head moving up towards Ruth's bedroom above, his brain demanding whether he was doing to right thing once more. He looked away, down at the key in his hand, and then at Dimitri who was already walking up the street towards his inconspicuously parked car.

Harry sighed, "It's for the best." He whispered half to himself, and half to the sleeping Ruth before locking the door carefully and jogging down the road after Dimitri.

**If people still want it, I'll write more. If I do, next is Harry's meeting with Coaver and those loose ends are finally tied up. There's quite a big shock planned in terms of Harry finding out just how many enemies he has. Please review to tell me what you think xx**


	30. Chapter 30

James sat fidgeting in his comfy office chair for a few more minutes before giving into temptation and pouring himself a healthy portion of scotch – it was the expensive kind and ideally should not be drunk in large quantities but in this job he rather thought he was in dire need of these occasional comforts. He brought the large glass to his lips and allowed the liquid to sear the back of his throat, taking pleasure in the numbing effect it brought. The week had been more stressful than he could ever have predicted and now on a Friday night, he had earned a glass of fine scotch or too. He was just marvelling at the way the measure he had poured could deplete so quickly when he was alerted to the sound of ringing on his desk, and he sighed once more. Cradling the glass in one hand, he reached over his desk and pulled his office phone to his ear.

"Coaver." He said tiredly, allowing himself another small sip of scotch whiskey. He visibly relaxed when he heard the familiar voice of the young man at the front desk, Matthew.

"Mr Coaver sir," he said humbly as he always did. "Your car's here for you."

Coaver sighed and nodded, even though he knew the young man could not see him, "Right thanks Matt."

He had to admit, he hated being driven as he had always been a man to do things himself, but he had been warned against driving himself of late, especially after the turn MI5 had taken with Willard. Coaver only had to remind himself that Willard had of course ended up dead, and he was not about to take that same risk, so he somewhat reluctantly took all the help he was offered.

"Tell him I'll be down in a minute." Coaver instructed young Matthew before replacing the phone in its cradle and rising from his desk. He tipped the glass back once more to reach the last remnants of the liquid before replacing it on his desk and reaching for his coat from the stand near the door. As he slipped it on, he thought vaguely about getting his driver to stop on the way home for a fish and chip supper, because he simply could not be bothered with cooking tonight; not that he often indulged in this anyway – he had always considered home-cooking to be something of a family activity, and since he had never married, he had never really seen much point in learning how to make extravagant dishes. The only time it had come in useful was when wooing the ladies in his younger years – but of late he had entertained more important matters.

Licking his lips to taste the last of the scotch, he strolled out of his office, locking it carefully behind him before making his way to the elevator. It took him precisely two minutes to reach the front desk, where young Matthew automatically looked up and nodded politely, "Goodnight sir."

"Not really." Coaver sighed, and he was just about to walk through the automatic door when he caught sight of a picture frame on Matthew's desk to the right hand side. He saw Matt notice and blush furiously. Coaver grinned slyly, "That your new bird is it?"

"We…we got engaged last week sir," Matt nodded, still blushing crimson.

Coaver nodded, wondering how long it would last for them before the job got in the way, "She's pretty." He commented. "English?"

"Yes sir." Matt said frowning, wondering why that mattered. He had always considered James Coaver to be slightly odd and perhaps a little bit crooked and so tended to steer clear of his bad side.

"Well good luck with _that_." Coaver nodded once more before heading out of the door, leaving a rather bemused young man at the front desk.

Coaver found the car waiting for him directly outside the building and he opened the door to the back seat and settled himself gratefully, just wanting to go home. He reached for his seatbelt and tugged it round his slowly protruding beer belly whilst he heard the driver in the front say, "Home sir?"

Coaver looked up in surprise, as now that he took a closer look he saw that the man sitting in the front was not young Richard who had been driving him for the past month or so. "Who are you?" he asked suspiciously. "You're not Richard?"

"No he's not." Said a silky voice from next to him.

Coaver whirled round and almost got the shock of his life as he came face to face with Harry Pearce for the first time in overt twenty-five years. The Brit had been sitting there perfectly quietly, watching him as he settled himself into the seat, and so he had gone unnoticed until now.

"Christ Harry," he muttered, unfastening his seatbelt and feeling for the handle to get out of the car, however to his shock the car had already been started and was heading out of the gates towards the motorway. "What is this?" Coaver demanded, trying to get over the initial shock of seeing a man he had not seen in years, lounging in the back of his car. A man who had just kidnapped him, and quite recently done the same to one of his officers and that man had ended up dead. "Harry, I demand you let me out at once. What's going on?"

"I'm afraid I can't do that Jim." Harry replied calmly. He sounded older and his voice had changed ever so slightly, but nonetheless he was the same unwavering interrogator, and Coaver had the distinct feeling he was there for just that…to be interrogated. "You see, I need answers."

"Harry," Coaver growled. "This is downright illegal and you know it. One word from me and your situation could be made a thousand times worse than it is now."

"About that," Harry contemplated calmly. "I was wondering why exactly I am being accused of the murder of Joseph Willard, and why you seem to be behind this whole mess."

"You're being accused Hal because you did it!" Coaver snapped, folding his arms across his chest. "And what the heck do you mean by accusing me of being behind this mess. What mess?"

"I think perhaps we'd better wait until we're in…more suitable conditions." Harry replied silkily, in a tone that made Coaver's hairs stand on end.

Coaver had ended up with his arms tied behind the back of a chair whilst they were situated in an old Cold War safe house – somewhere quite ironic for their personal history, but necessary because it was so inconspicuous, making it less easier for them to find. Harry was aware that he would not have much time – less than a night – before people started to realise Coaver was missing, and so he could not afford to waste any time. Harry had made Dimitri wear a balaclava when Coaver looked him in the eye so that he would not be recognisable to him after this – he was not having Dimitri lose his job, and Harry suspected that if they got caught, he would be in serious trouble anyway. So Dimitri had been sent away to the door to keep watch, reluctantly leaving Harry in the room with Coaver, who had rarely shut up since their arrival. Every minute or so he would protest about the way he had been apprehended and was indignant at the fact he was being treated like a prisoner.

Now however, Harry seated himself on a chair opposite Coaver so that he was staring in his eyes, and an awkward silence spread out between the two. It lasted for several minutes before Coaver snapped irritably, "Well ask what you want to ask then…but I can guarantee you'll be in one heck of a lot of trouble after this is all over."

"I'm already in a lot of trouble Jim." Harry said calmly. "But of course you'd know that, because you've issued half of it."

"Look I've just been doing my job." Coaver protested, but Harry bristled easily and his voice rose considerably.

"It is not in your job description to go around ordering the rape of women in their own home! It's also not in your job description to murder MI5 officers for doing their job, and it's most certainly not your job to attempt to assassinate the wife of the Russian ambassador!"

Coaver stared at him in shock for a moment before demanding, "You think I authorised the attack on Elena Gavrik? You think I did all that? Come on Hal, what do you take me for? You know me…we worked together for God's sake!"

"I thought I knew you." Harry replied bitterly. "And so I desperately wanted to as well. But then I suppose during the Cold War, we shouldn't really have trusted anybody…and I know I most certainly can't now."

"I've kept your affair with Elena Gavrik a secret for nearly twenty-five years!" He protested. "That's got to account for something!"

"Yes," Harry agreed, leaning forward to try to read the American's eyes. "It means it's_ you_ who has been impersonating me in messages to Elena Gavrik! It's _you_ who has been trying to get information out of her by using my codes! The person writing those knew things only Elena, you and I knew!"

"What messages to Elena Gavrik? You stopped running her years ago…we both know that for God's sakes. And what reason would I have for doing something like that anyway?" Coaver demanded, although he had paled ever so slightly, and Harry knew for sure that he had got him on that account. Coaver_ had_ been the one sending the messages then. Ruth, as always, had been right.

"You tell me Jim." Harry replied. "You tell me why you wanted information about our affairs out of Elena Gavrik!" Coaver opened his mouth to speak but Harry stopped him in his tracks. "And don't feed me one of your many packs of lies Coaver because I can read what's true and what isn't. Now that I'm really looking, I can read you like a book."

Coaver fell silent and visibly struggled to think of what to say. There was a pause before he said hoarsely, "Look Harry…it's not what you think."

"Oh do go on," Harry answered. "What is the truth Jim? What isn't what I think?"

Coaver sighed and closed his eyes as if trying to gather his thoughts into some kind of order, "Look…"he began slowly. "As far as Willard goes – I had nothing to do with his murder…he was a good and loyal man, and I worked with him for years. He was even working under me when his little girl was born for God's sakes-"

"The man I met was not good or loyal," Harry snapped. "He was a smug, slimy bastard, who didn't seem in the least bit remorseful for the rape of an innocent woman. I suppose you're going to tell me that wasn't your fault either?" Harry demanded in a dangerously quiet tone. "But believe you me; if you even try to deny your involvement in that, then I will not be responsible for my actions."

"Come on Hal!" Coaver pleaded desperately, as if trying to reason with Harry to listen to his side of the story, but he would not be placated.

"This has been about you since the beginning-"

"No!"

"-It's been about saving your own skin at any cost, whatever we had on you and your plans to ruin the Gavriks'!"

"Ruin the Gavriks? What are you-"

"-Ruth had something on you, and so did Tariq which led you to authorise his death, and her rape. Of course death would be far too easy with Ruth…people would get suspicious at the death of two officers…but in raping her, you would bring such pain and despair to an innocent woman so that it would bring her to ridicule if she even suggested-"

"Look Harry you've got it all wrong!"

"Have I?" Harry demanded, rising from his seat and gripping the shocked American ferociously. "Have I? Because please God, tell me I've got it wrong! My oldest Cold War ally – the only man I thought I could trust in all those years – tell me I'm wrong about him being responsible for this…atrocity!"

"You _are_ wrong!" Coaver pleaded desperately, looking unnerved at the dangerous glint in Harry's eye. He knew that glint; he had seen it in used against many people Harry had taken a dislike to during the Cold War years, and eventually those people had ended up dead.

"You're trying to wriggle your way out of this-" Harry began furiously.

"No!" Coaver said quickly. He gritted his teeth and prepared for the storm. Right now, he would do anything to be back in his office with that fine bottle of scotch. "Okay, I was involved in…in the rape of that woman you said, and I knew about the plot to…to kill that young Asian officer of yours," Just as Harry looked as if he would rather like to shoot Coaver he continued hastily. "BUT I'm not responsible…please believe me that I'm not responsible for this…in fact I realised what I'd done…I tried to stop-"

"Oh that's likely," Harry snorted disbelievingly, folding his arms across his chest in frustration. "James Coaver, master of the CIA, had an attack of conscience."

"I know you'll find it hard to believe but it's the truth," Coaver said. "And I mean the absolute truth. You may disagree with my opinions and my methods Harry – you always did – but at heart I'm a good man and I know what's right. I disliked the agreement as much as they did but they went too far!"

"Who?" Harry demanded, gripping the American's arm tightly with bruising force, crumpling up his previously pristine grey blazer.

"I can't." Coaver said stubbornly, and for the first moment in his lengthy time of knowing Jim Coaver, Harry registered the look of fright that flitted across his features.

Harry seized him roughly, lifting him from the chair whilst his hands were still bound to it so that the ropes cut painfully against his skin, taking the full weight of the chair, "You know what I'm capable of when I don't get my own way Jim." He growled warningly, narrowing his eyes harshly so that the other man could indeed see the truth in them. "Don't think after what you've done to Ruth I'll have any qualms in dealing with you!"

"Look, I didn't rape her alright!" Coaver yelled. "I was just told to find a couple of men who were willing to do a couple of jobs on the quiet…who needed to make some money."

"A couple?" Harry snapped. "You ordered four men!"

"What? No…there…there were only two." Coaver argued, almost to himself, looking extremely confused. "I ordered two men…only two." By this point, the American seemed more flustered than ever, as his justification was not going very well at all.

"Well where did the other two come from then?"

"It must have been-"

He stopped midway his sentence, looking hurriedly at Harry, apparently unable to say these words.

"Who?" Harry demanded, knowing by his scared expression that he was telling the truth. "If it wasn't you…if it hasn't been you behind everything…then who is it?"

Coaver swallowed, "I want protection…and I mean…good protection…"

Harry sighed impatiently, gritting his teeth at the other man's obsession for his own personal safety, "You know it isn't down to me anymore. But I'll try to arrange it."

"You're not gonna like it." Coaver said knowingly looking into Harry's eyes with such certainty it scared him. An enemy right under Harry's nose that he knew nothing about? Harry was not sure whether to be scared or intrigued.

Consequently, he seized Coaver further by his lapels so that he was almost out of his chair, the bonds staining against his hands whilst holding the weight of the chair. "Tell me!" he yelled, shaking the limp man as you might do a sheet before it was aired on the washing line. "You tell me who's behind all this!"

Coaver gritted his teeth against the pain in his wrists as the ropes cut deeper against his skin. With difficulty he spat out, "My God, I hate you Harry Pearce!"

At this, Harry lost all patience – he was so close to solving this, and Coaver was still attempting to play silly little mind games. In his frustration, Harry raised his hand and slapped Coaver hard across the face; an action which he had longed to do so often back in the old days, but since they had technically been on the same side then, he had not dared. Now however, they were not on the same side, or at least…they barely were. Coaver grunted as Harry's hand made contact against the skin of his left cheek and his head was thrown to his shoulder in an automatic reaction.

"You tell me Jim Coaver!" Harry yelled. "If you believe your life is worth living, I suggest you tell me right now who instructed you to do all these things!"

Coaver turned his head so that it was back facing Harry's looking into his eyes sharply, his cheek red and stinging. "You're gonna really hate yourself."

Harry thought he sensed a note of sick pleasure in Coaver's voice and he could stand it no longer. Slamming the infuriating American back into his chair with such force that he promptly nearly fell off it, he leaned close to him so that their noses were almost touching. "Last chance Jim." He whispered so that only had anyone else been in the room, they would have been unable to hear what was being said. "Last chance to choose between life and death." This time, Harry knew he had succeeded as the man swallowed noticeably and sighed in retreat. "_Tell me_." Harry emphasised once more.

Coaver swallowed once more before opening his mouth to speak, "It was-"

Harry did not hear the last part of the sentence, and Coaver did not get a chance to say it. A sudden rapid fire of bullets ripped through the window in the corner of the room, spraying everything in sight. In an automatic reaction, Harry fell to the floor in order to dodge the bullets which came in hard and fast for at least twenty seconds before all went silent again. Trying to get his brain to comprehend what had just happened, Harry opened his tightly shut eyes to peer around the room at the state of devastation. He addressed that the window was completely shattered and a breeze now wafted through the room, lightly passing the broken shards of glass below the windowsill and the broken ornaments in the old cabinet over on the far side of the room. His next step was the try to move his body in some form of shaky coordination, which he did. He was surprised to find that he had not been hit by their attacker, and the only pain he was currently feeling was in his knees as he had dropped to the floor so quickly. Harry found a bullet inches from where his elbow had been and identified it immediately as a machine gun bullet – a bullet not issued to just anyone. If he was not mistaken, they had just been attacked by a professional hit man. Wait a minute, Harry thought, _they_. Coaver. In the excitement, Coaver had been left on the chair, and with his hands tied tightly to the object, he had been unable to join Harry on the floor for protection. Harry could quite plainly see the gruesome result of what had happened, and despite everything the man had done recently, he could not help but feel remorse for a man who had helped him out a great deal during his time in Russian and Berlin. Coaver must have been hit in the chest by at least three bullets, one of which had completely punctured his lung and had ripped through his body to the back of the chair, and the other two had lodged themselves in his upper chest. A wave of guilt washed through Harry as he realised it was his fault that this man was dead; had he not tied his hands to the chair, he might have been able to get out of the way of the bullets. But then, as a spook, that raised question within Harry's mind about why they had been attacked? Why _had_ they just been attacked? Who had just tried to kill them? And who were they after in the first place? Harry had the awful feeling that Coaver had been the intended target anyway, and his thoughts were confirmed by the circle of bullets that surrounded the vicinity of where he sat slumped in his chair. Someone had known he would be taking Coaver tonight, and had taken it upon themselves to keep him quiet.

Trying to avoid the hideously bleeding sight before him, Harry began to get to his feet; the sound of shouting from Dimitri and gunfire in quick succession telling him that Dimitri had heard the attack and had spotted the assassin in his attempts to get away.

"H…h…Har…ry."

Harry forced himself to look back up in shock, and was confronted with the sight of Coaver still clutching on to the weak straws of life, and trying to open his eyes a crack to survey him. Harry automatically rushed back to Coaver's side and checked his chest, which was still bleeding profusely, and despite all likelihood the wounds were fatal, the fact that Coaver was still holding on was enough for him. Silently, he began tugging the American's jacket and shirt up to take a closer look at the fatalities.

"Wha…what ar…are you doin?" Coaver struggled groggily, all strength slowly dissipating from his voice and body.

"What does it look like?" Harry said as levelly as possible, still trying to comprehend what had just happened. He finally succeeded in lifting the other man's shirt but one look at the wounds told him all he needed to know; there was nothing he could to for Coaver. He felt angry at himself for feeling remorseful for this man after what he had done to Ruth; he felt angry at himself that his actions had caused this. "Thought you were dead." He said quietly.

Coaver let out a wheezing chuckle, which quickly grew into a grimace of pain, "S…sorry to disappoint…you. Ne…never mind…not…long n…now."

"No Jim." Harry lied firmly. "You're not going to die."

""Y…you always were a…an appalling…liar." Coaver panted, trying to smile despite his clear pain. "I…I may be…st…stubborn but…I'm not that…stubborn."

As Harry stared at Coaver, a CIA master who had once been a good man, but like many people in places of power, had been lured into despicable activities. He saw flashes of the cheeky young American he had known in Berlin, and in an attempt to block out what he had done of late for just a moment, he grimaced apologetically, "I'm sorry Jim…I…I didn't know we had been followed."

Coaver tried as best he could to smile, "I…I'll sue."

"Is there anything I…I can do?" Harry asked awkwardly, feeling Coaver's grip on reality weaken each second as he panted and began to close his eyes.

"H..how abou' a last…request?" he slurred. "A…good bottle of…scotch would…do me fine."

Harry frowned, and was astounded at how calm Coaver was being towards welcoming death, especially considering the fear in his eyes mere minutes ago when he had been demanding protection from exactly this scenario.

"Ha…Hal…" Coaver panted. "N…need to…tell you…somethin'"

Despite Harry's distress at seeing an old ally pass, he could not help but listen and prompt him, "What?"

"They…they're not to be trusted…"he slurred. "Don't…don't trust them…"

"Who Jim?" Harry asked urgently. "Who?"

"G…Gavri…k." Coaver forced out, even though he was barely clinging to life.

"Gavrik?" Harry caught sharply. "Jim, is Ilya Gavrik responsible for all this?"

"N…n…no. Th…th…three."

"Three?" Harry questioned confused. He gripped the dying man's hand for an instant in a selfish attempt to keep him awake for a moment longer. "Three people you mean?"

"Th…Gav…ri…s…an-" Coaver mumbled incoherently for the last time before his breath was lost completely.

"Jim?" Harry said quickly, feeling for a pulse on both Coaver's wrist and neck but it was no use. Harry stared at Coaver's lifeless body, caught between horror at what had just happened and confusion at Coaver's words. He was given no more time to ponder on them because at that moment Dimitri came hurtling through the door, panting and looking furious. Harry looked away, knowing that the young man had not managed to catch the assailant, which for them, was bad news. Dimitri stared around the devastated room, his eyes finally landing on Coaver's broken and bloodied body.

"Damn!" he yelled, adding to his increasing frustration. "I saw him…I heard it…I saw it and then he got away. The bast-"

"Dimitri you've got to go." Harry said quietly and very suddenly, causing Dimitri to stop mid-swear.

"What?" he asked confusedly. "No, we've got to get out of here."

"No, _you_ have." Harry said, staring behind him and outside the broken window.

Dimitri frowned and turned around, following Harry's gaze to through the broken shards and his heart stopped. Outside two large black security services issue cars had arrived, accompanied by a police car, and the occupants were beginning to get out. Harry noted with horror that the man in the backseat of one the black Mondeo's was Towers himself, looking absolutely livid. It clicked at the same moment for both Harry and Dimitri what had happened. Someone had been waiting for Harry to take this move from the start – after his clash with the American's after Willard's death, someone had been waiting for the opportunity whereby Harry would kidnap Coaver and could be framed for his death as well. The difference was that this time, he was going to get caught red-handed by Coaver's body, covered in his blood from when he tended to his chest, and had most likely been caught on camera outside the CIA building; not to mention the tip-off the actual assassin must have provided. Dimitri swallowed and turned to Harry.

"It's okay, I'll stay." He said decisively. "I'll stay and then I can vouch for your innocence."

"Don't be so bloody stupid!" Harry growled. "No one would ever believe you and I'm not having you screw up your career – you're a brilliant officer Dimitri."

"Harry-"

"Go." Harry hissed. "There's a back door over there." He said indicating the door to what looked like a small cupboard. "Just go."

Dimitri looked back at Harry in horror before nodding reluctantly, "It'll be okay Harry." He assured him. "We'll…we'll find a way."

Harry nodded before flinging Dimitri at the door to get out, because the men were already starting to travel up the path towards the house. He heard rather than saw Dimitri get out of the house, and so the look of relief on his face must have looked rather odd to Towers when he walked into the room seconds later.


	31. Chapter 31

**Thank you for the reviews for the last chapter - they're all really encouraging and keep me going even when I think I have writers block. So what shall Harry's fate be? Think I have a vague idea. Please let me know what you think about this xx**

Ruth squirmed against the sheets, halfway between wakefulness and sleep, trying to block out the noises around her. She had brought the duvet up to cover her head when it suddenly dawned on her what the noise actually was, and she quickly pulled the duvet back down. Scarlett was downstairs barking her little head off, an action which she never did unless something was very wrong indeed. Trying to concentrate, she rubbed her eyes tiredly and attempted to focus on listening to what was going on, unable to help the note of panic that arose within her. As she finally managed to tune her ears to what was going on, she realised that Scarlett was downstairs in the hall, and from the lack of amplification, she was growling at the sound-smothering door.

Immediately Ruth went on alert and subconsciously pulled the duvet tighter around her body, glancing at the clock in the corner of the room. It was almost three o'clock in the morning, which meant that Harry would be fast asleep by now. She had learnt however, that he was not a light sleeper, and so surely would have been woken by Scarlett's furious barking and now lunges at the front door. She listened desperately for any sound of Harry, either moving about upstairs or hushing the dog downstairs – there was none. She suddenly realised with horror what must have happened if he was making no protest at Scarlett's loud barking, and she swallowed anxiously. Harry must have been hurt in some way otherwise he would be berating the little dog for barking at such a time in the morning; her heart turned cold at the thought that Scarlett was barking _because_ Harry had been hurt. A year ago, she might have called herself irrational, but so many things had happened since, and she was very much aware of how easy it was for one to get into another's house without permission. Listening carefully for any other sounds except Scarlett's barking, she was satisfied that the little dog was the only one moving about downstairs, and very hesitantly she began to unwrap the duvet from around herself. Very glad that she had pyjama bottoms on, she swung her legs around the side of the bed and got shakily to her feet, her bare toes making contact with the scratchy carpet. As Scarlett continued to growl and leap at the door, Ruth walked agonisingly slowly towards the bedroom door, her heart beating so fast she was sure it was going to burst out of her chest. Subconsciously, she placed a hand protectively over her expanding stomach, praying to whoever was listening that she was entirely wrong about her presumptions – that there was nothing wrong at all, and that Scarlett had perhaps seen a rodent or something. Breathing just as fast as her heartbeat, Ruth placed her other hand on the door handle and turned it carefully so that small crack of light appeared from the lighted landing outside.

She exited her room carefully, and tiptoed across the hallway to Harry's room. In such a panicked state, she did not knock and opened the door straight away. Her heart began to beat even more wildly when she switched the bedroom light on and found the bed completely empty, as was his watch and phone from the bedside table. Trembling, Ruth found herself turning to go back outside to the landing, where she stopped at the top of the stairs to think.

Again, she hesitated and listened, and almost toppled down the stairs in shock when she heard a sudden knock on the door – a knock she had not heard before. Images of four men crowding into her house, shoving her down onto the floor as soon as she opened the door, filled her mind. Horrible memories of them on top of her, physical pains of excruciating agony returned in a single moment. However, she furiously shoved them from her mind, and tried to console herself with the fact that Scarlett was with her – the sweetest dog in the world, but who, when confronted with an obvious enemy, would attack on site. She ignored the constant flashes of men wearing black balaclavas, and ordered her shaky legs to descend the stairs. Scarlett heard the creak behind her and automatically withdrew away from the door to meet her halfway on the stairs. Ruth promptly picked her up and hugged the little dog to her as best she could with her ever expanding bump, jumping every time the knock sounded again. Scarlett had stopped barking once in Ruth's arms, apparently sensing that her behaviour towards their visitor was not really helping, and instead she licked her fingers comfortingly.

Ruth inched away from the door and hurried as fast as she could into the other rooms, starting with the sitting room, and finishing with the kitchen – all of them were empty, as was the bathroom upstairs. She had also returned back downstairs to check if the back door was unlocked, to see if perhaps he had been taken, but it remained firmly locked. Truly scared now, and gritting her teeth to remain calm every time she heard the knocking sound again, Ruth hesitantly walked back towards the front door. Scarlett remained in her arms, but as they approached the door, she bared her teeth, ready to apprehend any unfriendly visitors. She opened her mouth but it took several seconds to find her voice.

"Who…who is it?"

The knocking suddenly stopped, and she heard shuffling about outside.

"I said who is it?" she demanded, hoping she sounded a lot braver than she felt.

"Ruth," She almost breathed a sigh of relief as she realised the familiar voice, and she carefully put Scarlett down on to the floor. The dog seemed to realise the visitor was safe and so did not bark again as Ruth reached up to slide the bolt across and unlock the door. "It's Dimitri."

She opened the door just a crack even so, just to take precautions, however there was no need, as Dimitri stood there, pale-faced and out of breath, as if he had hurried here to tell them something. Except that Harry was not here. She hurriedly opened the door wider and allowed the young man to come in. As she did so, she smelt smoke drift in through the crack in the door, and she looked outside to see only one of their watchers in the car, and now that she thought about it, when she had checked the back door, she was sure the other guard had not been there either.

Dimitri in turn hurried inside and closed the door firmly behind him, "Ruth." He panted. For an instant, she took in her still shaky and pale complexion. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She answered determinedly but not altogether truthfully. "Dimitri Harry's not here. I woke up, and he's just not here-"

"I know."

"I can't…"Ruth paused as Dimitri's response took time to sink in. "Wait…what?"

"I know Harry's not here." Dimitri answered, looking extremely grave, and Ruth realised with a jolt that something had happened. "That's the reason I'm here."

"Why, what's happened?" she asked desperately, her heard still beating just as fast. What had happened to Harry? Had someone taken him? Had he been…?

Dimitri sighed and looked in the direction of the living room, "Maybe we should sit down."

"No Dimitri," Ruth replied, forcing the frightened tears away from her eyes, blinking rapidly. "I want to know where Harry is. I want to know where the father of my child is!"

Dimitri looked anxiously at her, before taking her hand gently, "Yes I know," he said quietly. "But I would be doing a great disservice to him if I didn't look after you and the baby…"

"Dimitri," she said losing all patience. "I don't need looking after. And what sort of talk is that…doing him a great disservice if you didn't…?" her voice trailed off as she looked into his still grave eyes. This time, she could not prevent the tears that came to her eyes, "No…please…he's not…he's not…"

Dimitri, suddenly realising she had put two and two together and made five rapidly shook his head, "Oh no no no, it's nothing like that…I promise you." He said genuinely, squeezing her hand gently. "He's…he's fine…honestly he is." He nodded towards the living room. "He's just…in a spot of trouble right now, and…to tell you this…you might need to be a little more comfortable…for the baby."

Ruth looked as if she would really like to argue, but something in Dimitri's expression forced her to nod slowly and walk into the sitting room, seating herself on the sofa. Scarlett promptly leapt up after her and positioned herself protectively over her lap, whilst Dimitri sat down next to her, careful to keep a moderate distance between them.

"Dimitri what's happened to Harry?" she asked desperately. "Why is he in trouble? This isn't to do with Willard?"

Dimitri hesitated, "Ruth, you're really not going to like this."

"I don't care." She said firmly, now more concerned for Harry than for any harm she could do to herself or the baby. "For God's sake, stop feeling the need to protect me, and tell me what's going on."

"What's happened tonight…it's not Harry's fault…it's mine." He confessed guiltily, looking down at Scarlett who had laid her head on her front paws, and was staring at him quietly, but suspiciously.

"What do you mean, it's your fault? What's your fault?" she demanded.

"Okay," the young man sighed, trying to focus on his story and where to begin, praying that Ruth would not be too angry at what had happened. He hesitated slightly, but at seeing Ruth's expectant expression he began, "Tonight, James Coaver was killed."

"James Coaver?" Ruth repeated, going a sickly pale, as another man who was associated with her attack was merely mentioned. "J…James Coaver's dead?"

"Yes." Dimitri nodded.

Ruth placed her hand over her mouth, it suddenly feeling very coarse and dry, and she tried to swallow whilst comprehending Dimitri's message. Her eyes widened in realisation, "No…no." she said hoarsely. "No…they've not tried to pin this on Harry." The look on Dimitri's face was damning. "No…" she said desperately. "Why are they trying to pin all of this down on him? He's done nothing wrong? He's not done any of this, so why are they trying to-"

"Harry was there when Coaver died." Dimitri said quietly, looking into Ruth's eyes to let her know that he was telling her the truth.

Ruth stared at him for a moment before shaking her head, "No…no…he promised he wouldn't do anything stupid. He promised." She rubbed her hand soothingly over her bump as she felt the baby move against her, almost as if it sensed its father's absence, and was making its protests known. She had not realised tears had begun to stream down her face, until she felt Dimitri's comforting hand on her shoulder. She looked at him desperately, "Please… please don't tell me Harry didn't kill him. He promised he wouldn't d-"

Dimitri squeezed her shoulder gently, "I can promise you that he didn't kill him. We were there…but he didn't kill him."

She furiously swiped at her tears and glared at the younger man, "You tell me right now what he was doing there? Why were you both there in the first place?"

Dimitri sighed and looked at her levelly, "Ever since…well…ever since you were…attacked, Harry wanted to interrogate him. He trusted your judgement that Coaver had something to do with it, as well as Tariq's death, and he put it all together…we were all furious at what had happened, and I said I would help him."

"Oh God." She moaned, rubbing her hands over her face in horror. "That stupid, stupid, stupid man." She berated Harry, although she sounded more upset than angry.

"Anyway, when things got worse with Willard's death, and Harry was accused of that, I realised that we needed to find out what was really going on…pretty sharpish. Things have been going down the chute at the grid since you both left – it's more like San Quentin now than the MI5 base, so we had to give up the official investigation into your attack. Remember that memory stick Tariq gave you when he died…that we were looking into?" she nodded. "That's gone missing. It's almost as if there is something that someone doesn't want us to find, but judging from the fact that…that night when you were…well…the men took information on Jim Coaver, presumably so that you couldn't read it. Coaver knew that you and Harry would have figured him out, so he ordered the attack. But Harry also suspected he was involved in the attempts to stop the Russian agreements, and Elena Gavrik's attack. So, for several reasons, he wanted to interrogate Coaver."

"What happened tonight…?" she glanced at the clock in the room, indicating that it was nearly four o'clock. "Last night?" she amended.

"I was the messenger who delivered that letter about the Home Secretary's work on proving Harry wasn't guilty." Dimitri confessed ashamedly. "With it were plans I had drawn up to get Harry out of the house and kidnap Coaver."

"Oh God, not again." She muttered sadly.

"So, at thirteen minutes past eleven, I arranged for a car accident to happen just up the road," Ruth immediately looked horrified, although that explained the smell of smoke still drifting outside. "Don't worry – nobody really got hurt – one guy who I deemed trustworthy enough to keep his mouth shut on such an operation. This would get at least the majority of the watchers away from the house, and it succeeded, and I got Harry out of the house unnoticed."

"Oh Harry," she whispered sadly. "You stupid, stupid man."

"If it means anything," Dimitri said quietly. "He was a little reluctant to go – he didn't want to leave you and the baby alone tonight." Ruth looked up at him, touched by Harry's actions. "He…he really loves you Ruth. If there's anything I know for sure after these long months…well…it's that." He smiled genuinely at her, and she did her absolute best to smile back, but could not quite bring herself to out of worry for the man she loved.

"So you got to Coaver and you interrogated him?" she asked quietly.

"Yes…we took him to this old MI5 safe house…" he scoffed. "MI5 safe house my foot…it was so safe it was…"

"Dimitri." Ruth said impatiently, interrupting Dimitri's bitter thoughts.

"Right yes," he nodded. "Erm…I stood watch outside whilst Harry questioned Coaver. It had only been about half an hour, when I heard shooting coming from around the back of the house-"

"Oh God," Ruth said again. "So you don't know for sure that it wasn't Harry?"

"No it wasn't." Dimitri said firmly. "The bullets fired were professional…from a top-notch gun…which means this guy was professional. Harry was only armed with a pistol." Ruth visibly sagged with relief. "And a few moments, later I saw the guy running away from the scene. The window was all smashed in and I guessed what had happened, so I ran after him. But he got to a car before I could even reach him…he was so far away I couldn't even catch the number plate."

"Couldn't you use CCTV – all the MI5 safe houses have them somewhere."

"It wasn't within range. This guy was a professional hit man – he knew what he was doing, and he knew not to park too close to the building." Dimitri sighed bitterly. "By the time I got there, Coaver was dead."

"But then…why didn't you just get away?" Ruth asked desperately.

"Because only minutes later, the police, senior MI5 officials and the Home Secretary himself arrived." Dimitri replied grimly.

"They were given a tip-off?" Ruth asked incredulously. "Why on earth would they believe that?"

"After going under the assumption that Harry is a rogue officer for months, they had no choice…or at least that's what Towers said anyway, when I asked after Harry had been arrested."

"What about you?" she asked confused as to why he also had not been arrested as an accomplice to murder.

"He nudged me out of the door before I could say otherwise," Dimitri replied grimly. "So I went back to the grid, got changed and went to see Towers, pretending to be completely oblivious to everything."

"You went to see Towers?" she asked frowning.

"Oh yes," Dimitri said casually. "Haven't you heard from Harry…apparently we're now best buds. From time to time Towers even calls me 'champ'."

Ruth smiled in spite of herself, "Oh lord." She suddenly frowned. "So that's how you were allowed to come here without him out there being suspicious." She said, nodding towards window where, through the net curtains, the guard could be seen sitting there dully.

"Right," Dimitri nodded. "The rest of his companions have been called back to Thames House to help deal with the situation. They don't deem you to be much of a threat it seems."

"They're wrong about that." Ruth said suddenly determinedly. "I want to see Harry." She said firmly.

Dimitri smiled, "I thought you might…that's partly why I'm here. Harry's been demanding to see you too and…well…Towers was at least able to wangle him that opportunity."

She nodded, shifting slightly on the sofa to let Scarlett know to get off her lap, which she did without any fuss, trotting into the kitchen in search of any remainders of food now that her mistress seemed much more at ease. She stood up as briskly as she could with her large stomach and began to walk towards the stairs, "Give me a moment to get dressed and I'll be there straight away."

Dimitri smiled and nodded, pleased that at least Ruth was slowly becoming herself again. He just hoped that she would be able to help Harry's cause. It had looked as if no one would be able to, when he was shunted into that meager black car mere hours ago.

* * *

><p>Dimitri walked by Ruth's side as he escorted her into Thames house. It was a strange feeling for Ruth, to be regarded as an intruder in a building she used to know so well. The man at the front desk was not the friendly, bumbling Gerry she had once known and conversed with on several occasions, but an older, grey-haired man, who looked permanently sour. She was positive he regarded her entrance with Dimitri, with virtual contempt, although maybe she just imagined it. Even so, she had forced herself not to blush and duck her head, and instead focused on her purpose of being there. She <em>had<em> to see Harry. She had to find out what Coaver had said, she had to find out if Harry was safe, and most importantly, she had to figure out a way of getting him out of this mess. It was somewhat ironic that according to Dimitri, Harry was now shut up in the same MI5 cell that Willard had been in several months ago, except that now he was the interrogated rather than the interrogator. She could not even bear to think about what they were doing to him to get the answer they wanted out of him, because if she knew Harry correctly, he would not admit to killing someone he did not kill, even to make life easier for him.

She vaguely remembered going down this hall months ago with Calum, except she had not been herself back then; in fact she had not really any idea what she was doing. Everything had seemed to bleak and terrifying, but now, with a baby to focus on, and the man she loved in desperate trouble, she forced the pain away. She and Dimitri stopped at the cell, and she at once recognised the guard standing there. He was one of the men who had kept watch over Harry's house – the one who had been stationed at the back door, and given her a fright when she first spotted him. He regarded her with a frown and she tried her best to do the same.

"Ms Evershed to see Mr Pearce," Dimitri said calmly to the older man. "I think you'll find I checked it all over with the Home Secretary and his men."

The older man, who looked really rather annoyed at the younger officer's pulling of rank, tutted and stepped aside to allow them inside. Dimitri nodded in response and pushed the door open, with Ruth following him inside. They entered the viewing room in which Ruth had been and collapsed inside some months ago, and she recognised the protective glass. She looked through it and almost gasped at the sight.

Harry was sitting, slouched in his chair, his black jumper gone, revealing only a plain black t-shirt underneath. He looked utterly exhausted and was sweating heavily, and to add to matters he was sporting a swollen and bloody lip – presumably the work of the burly interrogator pacing the room in front of him. Ruth noticed with horror that his hands were covered in blood; blood which she assumed was Coaver's, because otherwise he did not seem to be majorly injured. She sighed with relief at this, but could not help the anger that boiled up within her when she looked at Harry's exhaustive state.

"Oh Harry." She whispered softly, stroking her bump gently as the baby turned, as if also objecting to Harry's treatment.

"Come on," Dimitri said quietly, placing a hand on her back to gently lead her inside the room.

She entered first with Dimitri right behind her, and the interrogator turned around first. She thought she recognised him; she could not quite remember from where, but she recognised his eyes. She presumed she must have seen him at the trial, and that he must be one of the senior officers.

"Ms Evershed has come to see Mr Pearce." Dimitri said in the same calm tone as he had used with the guard. Ruth only had eyes for Harry, who at Dimitri's words, looked up from the desk wearily, and his eyes sought hers. She tried her best to smile for his sake, but she could not help the doleful look that came out instead. Harry also looked at her sadly, and she at once noticed the shame in his eyes. The interrogator's eyes flashed over Ruth, and she had the distinct impression that she was being scanned. Still unused to being looked at like that, she automatically ducked her head and shifted out of his view next to Dimitri. At last, the interrogator merely grunted and shuffled out of the room; Dimitri flashed her one last encouraging smile, and grimly nodded to Harry, before exiting himself.

For a moment, the pair watched each other in silence, each taking in the other other's appearance. It was Ruth who broke the spell first, walking as quickly as she could with her baby bump over to where Harry sat slumped in his chair. He was however, not too exhausted to meet her and he got to his feet and embraced her fully as she practically fell into his arms.

"Oh Harry." She whispered sadly, taking in his reassuring scent, because she was not sure as to how much longer she would be able to. That was before she remembered what he had done. Once she had remembered, she withdrew slightly and began hitting him lightly against the chest, "You stupid, stupid, _stupid_ man!"

Her voice grew more hysterical with each 'stupid' and Harry had to draw her back into his arms to stop her from hitting out at him once more. "I know." He said genuinely ashamed. "I know. I'm so sorry."

"You promised," she sniffed, determined not to cry. "You promised you me you wouldn't do anything stupid."

"I…I know. I really am…so very sorry." Harry said, and she could sense the tiredness in his voice. He did not need berating at the moment; he simply needed her to listen to him. Sighing, she reached up to kiss him gently on the lips, which he received gratefully, feeling as if a whole new lease of life had just hit him. Feeling much more refreshed, he smiled as she pulled away, "Thanks for that." He said, doing his best to keep his voice light.

"You're welcome." She smiled back gently. "But it's not a reward for what you've done. I'm still very angry."

Harry had the feeling of a berated schoolboy but he sobered up slightly, but still smiled back at her, "I know, and once we're out of this mess you can shout and scream all you want at me, and I'll stand there and take it like a man."

This did not generate the reaction he had been hoping before; instead her face fell, and she looked lost and sad once again, "Are we going to get out of this mess Harry?" she said, almost to herself. "Are we honestly going to get out of this?"

He did not mention that only a few hours ago, he had been wondering the same thing himself, but now that she was here, he needed to be the strong one, "Yes." He said firmly. "You have to believe we will…I for one have got a family to get back to." He said, placing a gentle hand over her ever expanding stomach.

She blushed and smiled at his reference to them being his family, but continued, "You weren't there when I woke up Harry," she said sadly. "I really thought something had happened to you. I mean…I really thought that you'd been attacked or something. You…you had me…really worried." She finished.

He smiled slightly at her concern, and indicated for her to sit in the seat opposite him, which she did, glancing nervously at the glass behind them, extremely self-conscious of the fact that they were quite possibly being watched. He gently took her hand in his.

"I have to tell you what happened," he said quickly. "Towers managed to get me some time with you but he did say it couldn't be for long."

Ruth nodded as professionally as she could, reverting herself back into work-Ruth, the woman who was able to save a Nation within minutes with her analytical brain.

"I assume Dimitri's told you most of what happened?" he asked and she nodded in response. "So it's up to me to tell you what Coaver said."

"Why didn't you just tell me all this from the beginning Harry?" she asked quietly.

"Because I didn't want you or the baby involved – you getting hurt is something that I am never going to allow again." He said firmly. "But back to Coaver." He insisted, intimating to her just how little time they had in this room together. She nodded once more to indicate she was not going to talk at cross-purposes again.

"Before Jim died, he admitted to being involved in your attack and Tariq's death, but he was not directly responsible."

"And you believed him?" she asked – it was thankfully not an accusation, just a mere question.

"Yes," he nodded. "And considering for the latter part of his confession, he was dying with three bullets in his chest; he was most definitely telling the truth. The CIA are well-trained, but not that well-trained. Besides, why would he try to pin the blame on anyone when he knew he was dying? To be glorious even in death – I don't think so – not Jim's style."

Ruth nodded in acceptance and Harry took it as the indication to carry on. "He said that he hired two American officers who were in need to money to help with the task – Willard was one of them and the other is yet unknown because we didn't have time for names."

"So who were the other two?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Harry shrugged, squeezing her hand in realisation that this was a difficult subject area for her. But Ruth simply pushed difficult thoughts to the back of her mind, because she did not have time for them now. "But I do know that it was that same unit of four men who was involved in Tariq's death."

"Poor Tariq." She mumbled quietly and Harry nodded in agreement, squeezing her hand again sympathetically.

"Jim insisted that he was working under someone else, in an alliance with three other people. I am almost positive that one of those people in Ilya Gavrik."

"But…" Ruth frowned confusedly. "Why would – I am assuming that these four were responsible for the messages to Elena – why would Ilya Gavrik do that to his own wife?"

She noticed Harry pale at the thought that his old flame might be in danger, but she chose to overlook it considering the circumstances, "I don't know." He said grimly, admittedly not having thought of this. "Maybe Ilya found out about our affair."

"So this is all just some big scheme of payback?" Ruth asked doubtfully.

"Oh believe me Ruth," Harry said sighing. "The Ilya Gavrik I knew of in the Cold War would have stooped that low." Ruth sighed along with him and there was an awkward pause. She could tell there was something he wanted her to do, but was reluctant to ask, and she had a feeling she knew what it was.

"You want me to meet with Elena and warn her." She said quietly – it was a statement and not a question. Harry sighed, knowing she knew him really too well.

"No…no, I can't ask you to do that…I can't let anything happen to you again… ever...or the baby either."

"But you need someone to do it." She reminded him softly.

"I know I do but-"

"Don't worry," she said determinedly. "I'll do it. "

Harry shook his head sighing, staring at her intently, "I really don't deserve you." he observed quietly before saying seriously. "But don't you dare go and put yourself in danger do you understand?"

"Harry, I can take care of myself." She said, although they both knew that this argument could so easily be overruled.

"I…I'm just saying to be careful." He said seriously. "Please."

She nodded, "I will." She frowned. "The question is…who are the other two involved?" She asked quietly.

"That's what I'm hoping you might be able to find out." He replied sheepishly, adding on a serious note. "Discreetly – no repeats of last time, and certainly no getting under the feet of Ilya Gavrik. Ruth, he is a very dangerous man." He said warningly and she nodded.

"Should I tell Dimitri?" she asked quietly, believing the young officer to be a trustworthy enough ally.

"Yes," Harry said after a moment of thought. "He's a good lad – we can trust him. One of the rare good officers left in MI5."

"He is." Ruth confirmed affectionately.

"I think telling him would be a very good idea – I hate the thought of you being alone whilst I'm…stuck here." He said in frustration. "If anything were to happen to you or the baby…well…at least I'd know you had someone on hand to help."

"Okay." She nodded.

As the professional conversation had more or less been exhausted, the pair slipped into silence, staring desperately at each other; the elephant in the room that Harry could well be in an American prison cell by the end of the week loomed over them. Ruth could not help but panic slightly at the thought of the treatment Harry might receive if he was convicted of killing a CIA boss; he already looked bruised and his lip was bleeding slightly, indicating that he had already received a fair amount of unwanted attention already.

"Harry," she said slowly, her analytical mind needing to hear his account to be sure of matters. "I know I'm probably being stupid but…I need to know for sure…please…please promise me that you didn't kill Jim Coaver."

Harry looked ever so slightly hurt at her question but thankfully managed to overcome this to reply firmly, "I promise you that I didn't kill Coaver." He said slowly, squeezing her hand gently to emphasise his point.

She stared at him for a few moments and Harry knew she was trying to analyse whether he was lying or not. She was quite obviously aware of his hurt expression because she looked ever so slightly guilty at her accusation, and squeezed his hand back. "I'm sorry Harry," she said genuinely. "I just…I had to know that…after everything…this hadn't been some extreme act of…revenge."

"It wasn't." he promised. "Five months ago I admit…I might have killed him." He admitted thoughtfully. "But I promised you I wouldn't do anything like that, and I wouldn't put you or the baby in danger like that."

"I know." She said quickly, becoming redder faced in shame at her accusation now. "I just…I was just being stupid…I know…I should have just kept my mouth shut…"

"No it's okay." Harry insisted, fearing that he had batted her down again, just when she was regaining some of her old confidence. "You needed to know…the spook in you needed to know. Believe me, I understand that."

She nodded gratefully, clinging to his hand in their final few moments together. She sensed a movement behind that glass and guessed that it must be Harry's interrogator preparing to make his entrance once again.

"It's odd," she said quietly, almost to herself. "I'm sure I've seen that man somewhere before."

"Who?" Harry asked, oblivious to her spotting his interrogator.

"That awful man who was in here earlier with you." Ruth continued, lifting her hand to ever so slightly caress his cut lip and bruised face. Harry closed his eyes and allowed himself to be soothed by her gentle, caring touch. "I'm assuming he was the one to do this to you." She said bitterly.

"Yes." Harry muttered back, his voice becoming quieter, he too sensing the other man's presence. He indicated with his eyes that she should do the same to maintain their conversation without their unwelcome guest hearing. "He'd be a lovely dinner guest."

"Harry," she asked fearfully, clinging ever tighter to his hand. "Harry what are they going to do to you if…if the Americans…?"

"He _is_ American." Harry sighed quietly. "He's CIA – some heavy they persuaded Towers to let bully some answers out of me. Or rather some 'confessions'." He muttered under his breath.

"You haven't confessed have you?" Ruth demanded quickly. "Please Harry…you haven't confessed to something you haven't done…"

"Of course I bloody haven't Ruth." Harry said, looking both offended at the suggestion and cheeky at the same time. "What do you take me for?"

Ruth smiled at his attempt to be light-hearted – even now, and could not help but feel guilty again at doubting his principals. That was one of the things she loved most about him – his ability to always do the best he could in a moral situation, and no matter what, his principals were generally good and right. "Good." She said quietly. "I'm glad. Although you might make it easier on yourself if you plead guilty." She added, knowing what his answer would be.

As she anticipated, he looked extremely indignant at this suggestion, and he shook his head stubbornly, "No. Absolutely not. What's a little pain and torture in comparison to staining a good name? Besides, a little pain is good for the soul." He said firmly. "Apart from anything, I'm not having that child," he indicated her stomach. "thinking for its entire life that I'm a murderer."

"Better for it to think that you're a murderer than for you not to be there for it at all." Ruth argued quietly, finally admitting her true fear. He could see in her eyes that she was genuinely terrified that she would not see him again; that he was leaving her alone for good.

"This isn't the end Ruth." He said, lifting her chin gently to look at him, as she had dropped her eyes in misery. "I promised you that I'd be there for our child and I will. And I am never, _ever _going to leave its mother alone to cope. I love her too much." He whispered with such tenderness, that she felt her hormones overreacting yet again and tears welled in her eyes. Harry saw this and he reached up to stroke her cheek gently, "No tears." He said firmly. "We go into this heads held high, just like we always did back at the grid, yes?"

Ruth managed a small smiled and nodded, sniffing, "Yes." She confirmed. "I…I love you too Harry."

At that moment, they both jumped and turned round as the door slammed and sauntering footsteps sounded against the stone floor as the burly interrogator entered. Again, Ruth tried to remember where she had seen those eyes before as they washed coldly over her and Harry.

"You, it's time to go." He growled coldly at her.

She froze upon hearing his voice, that also ringing a bell with her. She did not quite remember where she had heard it before but she knew it was not a pleasant memory. How could it possibly be when he was so cold and cruel? The man moved to fold his arms, his chest thrown out threateningly to any objections she might have. Harry noticed how tense she had become at the other man's threatening stance and he stood up with her, holding tight to her hand protectively.

"Give us a minute." He snapped angrily.

"You've already had fifteen – that's plenty." The man drawled calmly, although he might as well have attacked Harry what with the amount of hatred in his eyes. To emphasise his point, he started towards Ruth as if to escort her from to room, and she could not help but let out a whimper of terror; Harry moved to step in front of her.

"You don't touch her!" He growled protectively, and the man almost started back with the amount of ferocity in Harry's voice.

Ruth, who realised she was probably making things ten times worse for Harry when she eventually left, patted his arm gently despite her anxiety. "Don't worry Harry, I'll go." She said softly, her eyes straying warily over the interrogator's.

Harry looked as if he wanted to argue, but could not begrudge her leaving the room containing this awful man so he nodded. He was most pleasantly surprised to feel Ruth's lips suddenly on his own, in a way he had not felt before since that one night all those months ago, and he eagerly responded. He pulled her tight to him, emotion overcoming both of them as they realised it was quite possibly the last time they would see each other in a long time. He felt tears dribble down her cheeks and he wiped them away carefully with his thumb. "Chin up." He whispered so that the other man could not hear. "It'll be fine."

Ruth managed a small smile and whispered back sadly, "You're not an idealist Harry." She said, shaking her head.

"There's always a first time." He whispered back, kissing her once more before they parted.

The man in the corner of the room was looking most disconcerted, and both of them could not help but feel some sort of pleasure from that. They stared at each other silently before he nodded to her. "Goodbye Ruth."

She sniffed again, placing a comforting hand on her bump where the baby was turning over. "Goodbye Harry."

They both gave each other a final look that said 'Take care', before the man strode over to the door and opened it in indication that it was time for Ruth to go. "Yes, this is all very touching but it's time to get out." He said nastily.

Harry looked as if he would like to argue with him again, but Ruth silenced him warningly, knowing he would only get himself into more trouble. "I'll find them Harry," she promised him quietly. "I'll find the people who really did this."

"I don't doubt that you will." He smiled, before she gave one last returning smile and stepped out of the room.

Once inside the viewing room, the door slammed shut behind her and she watched as the interrogator strode over to Harry, looking very unfriendly indeed. She felt a soft hand on her back and turned to find Dimitri standing behind her.

"We'd better go." He said, clearly not wanting her to see what happened next.

Part of her wanted to stay with Harry, but another part of her did not want to see such cruelty to him so she nodded miserably, "Okay."

She stared at Harry for one last time before turning out of the viewing room, past the guard and back down the corridor. As she walked, she tried to formulate some sort of plan in which she could get in touch with Elena Gavrik. It was the last thing she wanted to do, but anything which would help Harry had to be done. She was just analysing a method which may well work when it suddenly hit her. And it hit her hard. It hit her so hard that she stopped walking and stood stock still in the middle of the marble corridor, her breathing heavy and panicked. Dimitri noticed her absence from next to him and walked back towards her. It did not take a rocket scientist to work out that something was wrong. Her eyes were wide and fearful, whilst her entire had begun to shake quite vigorously, including her hands which were beginning to roam over her mouth in shock.

"Ruth?" he asked concernedly. He received no response so he tried again, louder this time. "Ruth what is it? What's wrong?"

"I…It…It's h…him." She stuttered, genuinely shaking by now. Dimitri was reluctant to reach out and touch her at this stage so he refrained from doing so.

"What? Who?" he questioned, desperately trying to recall what could possibly have made her act like this all of a sudden.

"I…I knew I had seen those eyes before." She stuttered, tears beginning to fall thick and fast until within seconds she was crying uncontrollably. "Oh God…Oh God…" she panicked, flapping her hands in anxiety, and Dimitri tried furiously to work out what the source of her sudden irrational reaction was.

"It's him." She cried. "I…It's him."

"Who?" Dimitri tried to coax gently.

"I…it's the other one…"she stuttered, now breaking into jog, which was more like a fast waddle with her heavily expanding stomach.

"Ruth, what's made you react like this? What's happened?" Dimitri asked fearfully, running after her.

"It's…it's the other one…" she cried as she hurried along the corridor, now in great need of getting away from that interrogation room. "It's the other American."

"What other American?" Dimitri demanded confusedly.

"H…he was the leader!" she cried furiously, suddenly stopping so that Dimitri almost collided head first into her. "That night…the night those four men…when they…he was the leader!"

It suddenly began to dawn on Dimitri what exactly she was talking about, and he paled very quickly indeed. If she was saying what he thought she was saying, then the man who was with Harry now was a…well…he was mixed up in everything as well. And he had Harry.

"Ruth," he said quickly, placing a hand gently on her shoulder to which she automatically flinched, still in the midst of her reverie of memories. "Please tell me that he was not one of the men who r...attacked you."

Ruth tried to calm herself, suddenly becoming aware of her sudden bout of emotion, and gritted her teeth to steady her breathing. The cream walls and the corridor came back to her, as did Dimitri's face hovering in front of her, and she tried to remind herself to breathe in and out soothingly, just as Harry had instructed her to do during her night mares. "H…he was the leader." She forced out, as calmly as she could. "He was the one who…who did it first."

Dimitri swallowed, trying to make an executive decision. Should he go and get Harry out of there and blow his 'minion to Towers' cover, or should he leave him there and take Ruth home? She was in such a state that she looked like all she needed was some sleep and rest, yet what if he left to take her home, and something 'accidentally' happened to Harry whilst he was doing so? And Ruth had been so disturbed in recent months, ought he take her word for it that this man was genuinely one of her attackers – especially since she had not been able to see most of the man's face?

He looked down at her and could see she was beginning to think the same things, as well as shame at her sudden outburst. She was bright red and was swiping embarrassedly at the remaining tears. He made an executive decision according to what he had promised Harry and squeezed her shoulder gently.

"Come on. I'm taking you home."

**Aaahhh...everyone in this story is connected somehow. The plot web in my head is getting ever more complicated that I'm finding it near impossible to actually write down. Next chapter Calum and Erin come back in with a bang, something goes wrong with Harry and Elena's involvement is begun to be unravelled.**


	32. Chapter 32

**Here's the next chapter - as usual I wrote too much so I had to split this chapter into 2 parts, so here's the first part. Thank you very much for all your reviews - I'm typing as fast as I can considering my keyboard is broken :) I guess this part is just a filler for the next chapter but I hope you like it and please review it anyway...**

Dimitri escorted an exhausted Ruth through the doorway, where they were promptly met by a very eager Scarlett. She bounded up to Ruth as soon as she set foot in the hallway and placed her front two paws on her leg, however she seemed to realise Ruth's rather melancholy behaviour and her tail immediately stopped its wagging from side to side. Instead she whined miserably for her equally depressed mistress, and sat down heavily onto the floor below her. Ruth instantly felt sorry for the little dog that had been so good to her of late, and although she could hardly bend down to pick her up what with her large stomach, she tried to manage a small smile. It was not exactly successful but Scarlett at least seemed to realise that she was still loved and remained by her side as Dimitri also entered the house. This time, she did not try to complicate matters by barking and sniffing around this new guest, and looked loyally up at Ruth.

"Why don't you sit down and I'll make you a drink?" Dimitri suggested to Ruth who was standing there inside Harry's hallway, looking extremely lost without the man she loved directing her.

She nodded wordlessly in response, still caught up in the tangle of events that she had experienced that day; losing Harry and seeing the worst of her assailants for the first time since her attack had been completely emotionally draining, and she felt unbelievably empty inside. So without the energy to refuse Dimitri's help she nodded and walked slowly into the sitting room, closely followed by Scarlett.

It took a few minutes for Dimitri to find everything – it felt strange making tea for someone in this house when the owner was unlikely to come back anytime soon. He thought of that burly, unfriendly American who had been left alone in a cell with Harry, and then he pondered Ruth's initial reaction that he was one of her assailants. With Ruth now backtracking like mad, convinced she must have overreacted, Dimitri was caught between acting on her suspicions at the risk of making the Americans ever angrier, and deciding that she _must _have imagined the whole thing. Quite sure that Ruth was out of earshot, and whilst he waited for the kettle to come to boil, he pulled out his phone and typed in a familiar number on the keypad. A few minutes later he heard the other end of the line pick up.

"Dimitri?"

"Erin…" Dimitri hesitated, wondering if this was such a good idea. He had come to the conclusion that in recent months, as far as petty bureaucratic women looking to enhance their careers went, she was the best of a bad lot. However, if he admitted his toing and froing between Harry and Ruth's side and the service's, he rather thought she might object, yet he could see no other way to admit to knowing Harry's situation if he did not come clean about the other things.

"Dim," she said gently. "I am rather busy with the Gavriks' right now. If this is not incredibly important, can we not leave it until later?"

"Right…yes." Dimitri said, making an executive decision. Two executive decisions in one day, he thought – it was getting to be rather a habit. "I assume you've heard about Harry."

There was a silence on the other end of the phone confirming his words and she replied, "Yes…yes I heard. What's happened?"

"I…I need to meet with you." Dimitri said, knowing full well that he could not recount the whole conversation to her over the phone, especially with Ruth in such a state in the next room.

"Right," Erin said, sounding a little confused. "Well I'll just see you back on the grid."

"No." Dimitri replied immediately. "Not the grid. It's not safe"

"I'm aware that it's not the greatest place to be right now," Erin said, a little impatiently. "But I think you'll find it's reasonably safe."

"Not for what I'm proposing."

"Why, what are you proposing?" Erin asked suspiciously. "What is so secret that you can't talk to me on the grid?"

"Because I'm going to bring Ruth with me." Dimitri said decisively, knowing that Ruth would agree – she would so anything to help Harry.

There was a brief silence and then, "What?" Erin asked as if she had misheard him. "What do you mean you're bringing Ruth? As in Harry's Ruth?"

"Do you know any other Ruth's?" Dimitri responded.

"What?" Erin asked, still sounding completely bewildered. It was a start at least. A few months ago she would have sold her own eyeteeth to get a promotion; no doubt doing things such as reporting matters like this. Now she just sounded a little shocked, and she surprised Dimitri when she added, "Right, you know what? I'm not even going to ask what's been going on. I'll meet you at your house at-"

"No," Dimitri said quietly. "Not my house, or yours either – we don't want to put Rosie at risk. Doghouse 3 at six o'clock, okay?"

There was a scuffling at the other end of the line as if Erin was checking her watch before she returned her full attention to the phone, "I should be able to arrange that."

"Erin," Dimitri said awkwardly. "I need you to check on Harry."

"I'm not sure I can get away from the Gavriks' at this stage." She said. "I'm already pushing things by leaving early to meet you. Anyway, if he's been taken by the Americans as I've heard he has, I don't have the authorisation to see him."

"Come on Erin," Dimitri pushed, deciding that flattery would have to work. "You and I both know that a woman of your abilities could do that."

"Flattery will get you nowhere Dim." Erin said, sounding as if she was smiling at the other end of the line.

"Correction," Dimitri flirted. "Flattery _will_ and usually _does_ get me everywhere. Come on Erin." He pleaded.

"Why do you need me to check on him?" Erin asked suspiciously and added a little bitterly. "You're the one who is best friends with the British Home Secretary."

"I already did check on him," Dimitri admitted. "I went with Ruth, and he already looked in rather a bad way."

"You went with Ruth?" Erin asked surprised. "How on earth did you get authorisation for that?"

Dimitri ignored her question and continued, "Ruth was pretty convinced that the guy interrogating Harry was the leader of the gang that raped her."

"Dim, she's recovering from a God-awful attack." Erin sighed. "She's bound to have flashbacks and see some people as her attackers. It's standard psychological effects."

"She was convinced of it." Dimitri insisted.

"What do you mean she _was_ convinced of it?"

Dimitri sighed, realising how amateurish he was going to sound, "She's backtracking like mad – thinks that maybe she just imagined it."

"Well there you go then."

"Come on Erin," Dimitri pleaded. "You know Ruth – yes she was brutally attacked – but recently she's been getting better. She's been more or less fine for the last couple of months. Why should she suddenly go downhill again? Usually she's a perfect source of information."

"Yes _usually_." Erin emphasised.

"She's never let us down," Dimitri insisted. "And before you or Calum arrived, she never let us down then either. Humour her on this."

"Dim-"

"Do it for me then." Dimitri pressed. "Please? For a…for a friend."

There was a pause as he uttered the word 'friend' as they both knew that there was a little more than something there between them. Eventually she sighed, "Okay. I'll…I'll check it out. See what info I can gather."

"Thank you Erin," Dimitri said. "I could kiss you." His eyes widened as he realised what he had said and he hurriedly continued. "I…I erm…I mean…metaphorically speaking."

Erin seemed to have been thinking the same thing because she stuttered back, "Good. I wouldn't have it any other way. We're…erm…colleagues."

"Yes…" Dimitri agreed feebly. "Colleagues."

"Colleagues who help each other." Erin continued to splutter. "And babysit for each other from time to time."

"Right," Dimitri agreed again.

"I…I'd better go." Erin said quickly. "See you at Doghouse 3 at six then – bye."

"Yeah…bye." Dimitri sighed.

With that, she ended the call, and Dimitri replaced his phone back into his pocket. It was nicely timed as the kettle finally came to boil and he emptied its contents into two mugs. He picked them up carefully and brought them through to the lounge where Ruth was sitting slumped on the sofa, absently stroking Scarlett, who was situated next to her, now no longer able to fit on her lap due to the largeness of her stomach. He sat down next to the little dog and reached over and handed her one of the mugs of tea.

"Oh." He said suddenly remembering. "Do you take sugar?"

Ruth nodded, still staring into the distance silently.

"Do you want me to go and put some in then? I didn't put any in." he reached again for her mug but she did not let go.

"No it's fine." She said monotonously.

Dimitri nodded, feeling distinctly uncomfortable at her lack of conversation. He could tell that today had been one of her worst days since the attack, and not knowing quite how to deal with it, he just sat silently and sipped his own tea. Finally, feeling the need to break the uncomfortable silence he said.

"I've sent Erin to check that Harry's okay…for now."

Ruth instantly turned round and looked grateful, "Thank you Dimitri." She said, not knowing how to express her gratitude at the amount he was doing for her and Harry.

"She'll look up the guy who was interrogating him as well – see if there's anything on him."

Ruth looked down at her knees again, "I've told you. It was probably just me imagining things – standard psychological trauma effects…you know."

Dimitri thought it prudent not to mention that Erin had said the same things mere minutes ago, "It's just to make sure. You're not a one to make a fuss over nothing."

"Are you sure about that?" Ruth asked miserably. "I seem to have been doing so recently."

"Nonsense." Dimitri said politely, only half-lying. "I've also arranged for us to meet Erin at Doghouse 3 at six."

Ruth frowned, "Why?"

"So that she can give us the latest on Harry, and get some extra help on this."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea." Ruth said nervously. "Can we trust her?"

"You can now," Dimitri assured her. "Believe me; a lot's changed in the last few months."

Ruth stared at him for a few moments, as if working out of what he said was true before deciding it was. "Okay, but there's still the small matter of that fact that there is a bloody guard outside this house every which way I turn, and if I leave with you, then it's going to completely blow your cover and get us both into trouble." She looked back down again. "And I promised Harry I wouldn't do anything stupid."

"It's called acting." Dimitri smiled, a plan formulating in his mind.

Ruth sighed, "I'm not sure I should go with one of your plans – the last time someone did, Harry ended up in a prison cell."

Dimitri decided to ignore this comment, "This one is fool-proof."

"I've heard that before." Ruth sighed, smiling at his indignation, despite her misery.

"Not by me." Dimitri said indignantly.

"No," Ruth admitted. "But don't forget I worked at MI5 for nine years, and before that at GCHQ – at both of which at least one person said 'this plan is fool-proof', and of course, it was not."

"Well this one is." Dimitri insisted. "I'll tell you my plan, if you tell me what Harry said." He said gently. "I need to know exactly what happened in that room."

Ruth sighed and nodded.

* * *

><p>Norman Walker sat twiddling the pen around his fingers, eyeing the crossword puzzle with annoyance. He had completed every single answer except one, and he had spent the last three quarters of an hour or so trying to squeeze the answer out of a mind which it seemed, didn't want to be used. He screwed up his face in concentration for a few minutes more before deciding the impossibility of the puzzle and prepared to give up. However, just as he was retreating his pen back into his pocket, and slinging the crossword onto the dashboard, he caught sight of the house's front door opening. He smirked to himself as he thought of how much more trouble this woman could get into, and he watched intently as the handsome young Dimitri Levendis led her out of the house whilst she was doubled over in apparent agony. As they made it further down the garden path, he heard the Evershed woman making constant puffing sounds and moans of pain as she leaned on Levendis for support; all the while clutching her stomach. Frowning, Walker reached for the door handle and stepped out of the car, heading towards the pair who were now approaching Levendis's car with as much speed as was possible with her agonising state.<p>

"Excuse me, what do you think you're doing?" he questioned them, as Dimitri opened the door to the passenger seat of his car and settled Ruth inside.

"Ah," Levendis said, apparently relieved at seeing him. "Thank goodness you're here. Could you please call the Home Secretary and tell him that I'm not able to make our appointment today."

"What's going on?" Walker pressed, his fingers not even twitching in the direction of his pocket where his mobile lay.

"Right now, Ms Evershed's in a great deal of pain due to the stress of the last couple of days; I'm no doctor but I think it may be induced labour, if not a miscarriage. I have to get her to a hospital."

Walker looked between the faffing young man, and the screaming woman and shook his head, "I have orders to keep her here. I may not be as cosy as you are with the Home Secretary," Walker said a little bitterly towards Dimitri, "But I do know that you have no more orders to visit this woman. You have taken her to see her…lover, and that is it for your duties."

"Duties or not," Dimitri exclaimed with impatience. "Ms Evershed is still an ex-colleague of mine and I have an obligation to help her when there is a possibility of her losing her child. I'm sure Towers would understand that perfectly, so I want you to call him and tell him that."

Walker narrowed his eyes at the indignation of this young man pulling rank. It proved especially annoying when Levendis was actually of a higher grade than he was, so if instructed, he had to obey orders. Muttering under his breath, Walker took out his mobile and typed in an all-too familiar number.

"Home Secretary's office." He snapped, presumably to Towers' secretary. "Norman Walker on the subject of Ruth Evershed and Dimitri and Levendis."

Within seconds he was switched to the Towers' office.

"Home Secretary." Walker greeted, as Ruth screamed out in another wave of pain. "Sir, Ms Evershed is experiencing problems with her baby and needs to be taken to a hospital straight away. Levendis is still with her. Do I have clearance to let them both go?"

Walker's eyes narrowed as he listened to the voice at the other end of the phone. Dimitri guessed that whatever Towers was saying, it was simply not what Walker had wanted to hear. As Walker looked away briefly, Dimitri cast his eyes over Ruth who at his look of encouragement let out another cry of agony.

Eventually, Walker finished his call with Towers and shoved his phone back into his pocket, almost definitely in a bad mood. "You're free to take her. Towers says that it's fine and he hopes all is well with the baby."

Ruth, to keep up with the act, let out another cry, "Please…let's go." She screamed to Dimitri, and Dimitri made an effort to look suitably flustered.

"But," Walker continued, a nasty little smirk appearing at the side of his mouth. "He has orders to keep you under surveillance at all times, so I have to either take you there myself or follow you."

"Oh God," Ruth moaned as a brief moment of panic flitted through Dimitri that his plan might not work. "No…" she panted, as Dimitri began to respect just what a good actress she really was. "No…I am not…moving from this seat now. I need a hospital…NOW!" she yelled the last part as she doubled over again, clutching her stomach in apparent agony. Dimitri even glimpsed perfect tears forming in the corner of her eyes, which Walker clearly noticed because he looked extremely uncomfortable for a moment.

He cleared his throat, "Fine…get in. I'll follow you all the way." He glared at Dimitri, making it perfectly clear that despite the fact that Dimitri was a superior officer, he held much contempt and loathing for him. "But no tricks – is that clear?"

"Crystal." Dimitri snapped back, still with perfectly acted impatience. Ruth let out a final cry indicating him to get in the car, and he hurried around the back of the vehicle and got into the driver's seat. Walker followed suite and started his engine, setting off after Levendis's car as soon as it began to move.

* * *

><p>"You were brilliant." Dimitri informed Ruth as they pulled into the main road, Walker close behind them.<p>

"You likewise." She managed to smile.

"With acting skills like that, I'm surprised you didn't become a field officer." Dimitri said honestly, but he could tell from the look on Ruth's face that she was really not in the mood for casual conversation; too worried about what they were attempting, and especially, Harry's fate. So Dimitri stopped talking and they slipped into silence as he drove towards the hospital, Ruth watching Walker drive all the while in the side mirror. But then she spoke up unexpectedly:

"I did eventually didn't I?" she said quietly, with such infinite sadness Dimitri had to focus hard on the road to stop himself from looking at her.

"What do you mean?" he asked gently.

"Well…"she began. "I always seem to get myself into trouble one way or another."

Dimitri considered this, "No." he said slowly, and added bravely. "I think you getting into trouble is rather more to do with being in love with someone like Harry Pearce, than it being down to the job."

Ruth did not take offence and in fact smiled, "Yeah," she said quietly. "Yes, you're probably right."

Dimitri smiled back at her briefly before returning his attention to the road.

"But you know something?" she said, in a slightly stronger voice that caught Dimitri's attention.

"What?"

"I…I don't think I would change any of it." She answered. It was the most unlikely answer he thought she could possibly give, as he had always thought she regretted things one way or another, and he realised it only made him respect her more. In fact, he only wished he could find love of the same strength as Ruth and Harry had done.

"You should tell Harry this." He suggested, as she continued to watch Walker in the side mirror.

She smiled slightly and shook her head, "I don't know. He and I were never particularly…emotionally forthright. We both knew what we felt for one another…I suppose…but…" she drifted off, unable to finish her sentence.

"But you didn't quite know how to express it." Dimitri finished for her, and he looked over briefly to see her nod.

"Yes…I suppose." She answered sadly.

"Well," Dimitri said, remembering Harry's state those two times she had been in hospital. "If it helps…he feels the same way. And I mean…he said more or less those exact things to me about you once."

Ruth looked over at Dimitri in surprise, but after a few seconds she found her smile of relief dissolving as she realised how apart she and Harry were now. "It doesn't really matter anymore though does it?" she sighed. At Dimitri questioning glance she elaborated, "I'm probably not going to see him for a long time, if not ever again."

"Come on Evershed," Dimitri said in a tone that he had not used since his first year working with her. The use of her surname had always irritated her, but similarly it had always given her that little bit of extra fighting spirit. "Don't be so defeatist. Why do you think we're doing this? So we can save Harry."

Ruth registered the resumption of her surname, and within seconds Dimitri noticed her sit just that little bit taller. She hesitated before nodding, "Yes…right…you're right."

"Harry told you to keep your chin up remember?" Dimitri pressed, before realising what he was saying.

Ruth also noticed and turned to him in indignation, "You were listening in to our conversation?" she demanded.

"No." he promised. "I only came in for the last part when…when the other guy came in to take over. He saw her visibly pale and he repeated. "But Harry's right – that's the secret to MI5 isn't it. No matter what you've got to keep your chin up...even if you feel like you're in the back end of beyond."

Ruth smiled slightly and surveyed the young man next to her, "You're really quite wise aren't you Dimitri?" she said quietly. "When you get over the clowning around, and thinking your God's gift to women."

"Excuse me," Dimitri said in mock indignation, although she could tell he was smiling. "I am helping you here. There's no need to insult me."

Ruth could not help but release a slightly wider smile, and she held her hands up in surrender, "Okay…okay…sorry."

"Besides," Dimitri added. "I think I've more then met my match in terms of women."

"Erin?" Ruth suggested, glad to latch onto a topic where she did not have to think about Harry getting hurt.

Dimitri looked shocked that she had guessed so easily and could not help but grumble, "You always were too smart for your own good Evershed."

"Thank you Dimitri." Ruth answered a little more downbeat. "People seem to be saying and thinking that a lot towards me recently. Dimitri's eyes widened as he realised the effect his comment might have had and he searched for some way to remedy the situation when she added softly, "No it's fine Dimitri." She had apparently noticed his discomfort. "You're probably right." Dimitri was about to try against his argument when she added, "Just…just be yourself towards her and you'll be just fine. You are…truly a decent man, and I'm prepared to bet she can see that."

Dimitri flushed a little red at this compliment, and he had not expected the conversation to take this turn at all. He cleared his throat gruffly and nodded in appreciation. "Er…thanks."

He was even more appreciative as they pulled into the hospital car park, Walker still right behind them. "Ready to do a bit more acting?" he questioned and she nodded determinedly. "Right…let's go."

* * *

><p>"Aaaahhh." Ruth screamed in convincing agony, clutching her stomach as Dimitri headed straight away out of the car with her doubled-over form towards the A&amp;E.<p>

Walker parked his car hastily and jogged straight after them, arriving at the front desk with them, where Dimitri was talking urgently to the receptionist. "I need to you to contact Dr Petas – Ms Evershed's doctor. Tell her that she and the baby are in trouble and that Ruth needs to see her urgently."

The receptionists eyes flickered over Ruth who was hunched over against the desk, apparently unable to stand, and then over Dimitri. Getting the point, she picked up the phone and said when the other end picked up, "Dr Petas, I have a patient of yours – Ms Ruth…Evershed?" she asked, looking for confirmation from Dimitri, whilst Walker watched closely all the time. "She's experiencing severe abdominal pains…right I'll tell her."

She put the phone down quickly, and went round the side of the desk to check Ruth's state, "She said she'll be with you in just a moment. You're lucky she's not with another patient; she's on a brief tea break."

Ruth continued to pant and produce moans of pain to keep the act convincing, whilst the receptionist helped Dimitri escort her to a chair.

"Please," Ruth said incredibly convincingly. "Please tell her to hurry…aaahhh….did…did she say what…what it could be."

"She can't tell love until she's examined you." The receptionist said gently, before catching sight of a young male doctor hurrying down the hall towards them.

"Is this Ruth Evershed?" he asked them quickly, whilst Ruth and Dimitri fought hard to keep their surprise at bay, and resume with their act.

"Er…yes…" Dimitri said, whilst the receptionist indicated that she was going to get back to her desk. "Yes…Dr Petas?"

"She had to go and check on another patient briefly," the young man said confidently, crouching down next to Ruth so that she could look him in the eye. "I'm just going to bring you to her if that's okay? And get a few basic details. Where are you in pain?"

Dimitri tried to hide his amusement as the young doctor questioned Ruth seriously, and with commendable confidence. He watched as Ruth recounted that she was experienced agonising pains in her stomach, back and against her ribs, all the while jotting things down on a clipboard he carried with him. "Okay." He said seriously. "You don't have to worry – I'll take you to Dr Petas straight away." He headed over to the door and pushed a wheelchair towards Ruth, who he lifted and gently sat her inside. "It sounds as if you have had early Braxton hicks, which believe me, is nothing too serious to worry about. But just to make sure…" he said, pushing Ruth towards the corridor he had just come down.

Dimitri and Walker made to follow, but the doctor turned round to face them frowning, "And you are…?" he questioned sternly.

"I'm a-" Dimitri began, before Ruth pulled him quickly towards her by the hem of his smart blue shirt, letting out another cry of pain.

"He's a friend…please…please…" the doctor looked concerned again and turned quickly round to Walker.

"If you don't mind sir, I would appreciate it if you could stay here."

"But-" Walker objected to this impertinence.

"Sir…no time for arguments." The young man said firmly. "I have to get Ruth checked out quickly to make sure there is nothing serious wrong with either her or the foetus."

With that, the doctor whipped around and continued to push a panting Ruth further up the corridor, Dimitri at his heels, leaving a confused Walker gaping like a confused goldfish. They continued in silence until they had separated the distance with a few corridors.

"What in the hell was that?" Dimitri demanded of the young man, who chuckled and handed Ruth the clipboard he had been carrying.

"What was what?" he asked innocently.

"The whole…I am a fully trained doctor and I know what's what routine." Dimitri continued, although he was also smiling at the other man's ingenuity.

The young man sniffed haughtily, "I thought it was rather good actually." And he grinned cheekily, inducing a smile from Ruth, who seemed to have miraculously got over her pain and was sitting a little more relaxed in the wheelchair.

"Calum," Dimitri said firmly. "You are one of many things, but you are _not_ a doctor."

"One can always dream." Calum replied, navigating his way through the halls towards one specific room.

"I don't mean to be rude," Dimitri said. "But what exactly are you doing here?"

"In the words of the great Spike Milligan, 'everyone's got to be somewhere'." Calum shrugged cheekily.

"No but really," Dimitri pressed. "Where's Erin."

"You're a bit of a prat, you know that?" Calum said bluntly, creating an indignant frown from Dimitri, and even Ruth looked a little shocked at his candour.

"Excuse me?" Dimitri spluttered.

"Erin realised about five fifteen minutes after you called that she's met that guy. She'd met all of those guards and the Home Secretary before. If she had come down as Dr Petas then she'd have been recognised and this whole plan, as commendable as it was, would have gone kaput."

Dimitri had to admit that Calum was right, as annoying as it was, so he nodded. "Right."

"But another thing," Calum continued, and Dimitri prepared for yet more criticism. "What on earth was that legend?"

"What?"

"Dr Petas."

"That's Erin's legend for Doghouse 3." Dimitri said crustily.

"Petas?" Calum criticised. "Really? Petas…Peta…Petawatt…Petawatts?" Calum shook his head at the awfulness of the legend.

"What's wrong with it?" Dimitri asked. "It's good enough for Erin to recognise and it was good enough for that receptionist to catch on."

"Don't you think it's a bit too obvious?" Calum asked.

"Says the one who claims he can crack codes within hours and lo and behold…he doesn't."

"Yeah," Calum said, going slightly red but maintaining his confident composure. "But still though…don't you thi-"

"Calum," Dimitri said quickly. "If you continue down this path, then I swear it will be you who will be needing this wheelchair, and access to real hospital attention in a minute."

"Okay okay." Calum muttered, shrugging in surrender and instead he turned his attention to Ruth, who was noticeably more relaxed now that she was safe with people she knew, and although she would never admit it, she had loved the resumption of the old-fashioned banter she had been used to at the grid. Bending to her ear level whilst he pushed the wheelchair, he said in a quieter and gentler voice so that Dimitri would not entirely hear, "Good to see you again Ms Evershed."

Despite her plans to berate him for his teasing of Dimitri, Ruth could not help but flash a smile back in his direction. Had she not been a little less worn down, she might also have declared that the chair was unnecessary, but she actually found it a big relief on her body, which she had only just noticed was getting extremely tired. After such an emotional day, she was utterly exhausted – it was only the thought that Harry would be being mistreated in a cell somewhere that kept her going. As she thought of Harry, the baby turned over and kicked hard against her, making her gasp a little.

Dimitri looked down at her concerned, "Come on Ruth," he said lightly, despite his worry. "Don't tell me after all this; you're really going to need a doctor."

"Yeah," Calum joined in. "I'm good, but I'm not that good."

"It fine," she assured them, rubbing her stomach soothingly. "It just kicked quite hard, that's all."

She wondered internally whether or not the baby realised that something was wrong; she herself had to try hard not to panic about the situation for the baby's sake. At that moment, she realised they had arrived at the meeting point, and she watched as Dimitri leant forwards and opened the door, allowing she and Calum to enter first.

**Hope it was okay. So next up is the meeting between Ruth, Dimitri, Calum and Erin, plus an event with Harry, and also we meet Elena again. Please review if you liked it, or even if you didn't like it. I'd love to know what you think.**


	33. Chapter 33

**I'm really sorry for the massive gap between updates - real life has been a bit hectic of late, so I'm afraid this is only a short one...just to keep you going because you're always so kind with the reviews. Please review and I hope you enjoy...**

Doghouse 3 had always been one of the MI5's lesser known meeting places, one of a handful of locations known only to senior officers within the organisation, and specifically not by the Government or by the CIA. Ruth had a feeling that Harry might even have come up with the idea of it being situated in a hospital, presumably because of its usefulness when he was a younger field agent, and he had constantly been getting injured in the field.

The room had been set somewhat inconspicuously between two supply closets, and the door had the overall look of a closet itself. Inside however was a clean white empty room, with only spare beds and dustcovers for company. It was a windowless room set into thick white stone, and with only a dim bulb to light the darkness, it was the perfect location to host a private meeting. Erin sat in the centre of the room on one of the spare beds with her hand to her ear, talking quietly to herself. It was only when they inched further into the room that they realised that Erin was actually conversing with someone on her mobile and by the sounds of it – she was pretty angry.

"No," she snapped irritably, barely glancing up at them as Calum entered the room as well and closed the door behind him for good measure. "No of course we didn't…I don't need you to tell me how junior I am Carl – you throwing insults at me and my team isn't going to help matters."

Ruth frowned as Erin continued her conversation with the man named 'Carl' – it was odd, she did not remember anyone entitled Carl working on the grid, particularly since she had assumed that Erin was now in charge. Then again, she supposed that a lot had changed since she had last been on the grid.

"Yes thank you, I am well aware that I am not there at the present moment – I am currently in a traffic jam waiting to pick up my daughter from her child-minder's house, so I'm not going to get here any faster by you shouting at me." She paused again, and the other three could positively hear a man ranting loudly at the other end of the phone. "Dimitri? Well," she said, locking eyes convincingly with Dimitri who in actual fact had just plonked himself down next to her on the bed. "If you want Dimitri, why don't you ask your pal the Home Secretary? He'll probably know where his new henchman is."

Dimitri opened his mouth in protest at her attitude towards his new position, but she winked cheekily at him. Ruth was torn between surprise at how convincing a liar Erin actually was, and relative happiness that she and Dimitri had found something special. She watched the pair lock eyes with each other, Erin quite forgetting that she was still supposed to be on the phone; however the moment was utterly ruined by Calum who with all the tact of an aubergine, flung himself down in between Dimitri and Erin, blocking their view. The young man promptly smiled cheekily at Erin, who blushed briefly at having been caught in such a position with Dimitri, but recovered quickly to answer smartly on the phone, "Where's Calum? Oh I have absolutely no idea about that Carl. But you know Calum – he can get all over the place, and get up to God knows what." She smiled evilly at Calum, who looked quite abashed by her lack of protection from their boss. "Yes, I suggest you take it up with him when they do come in."

With that, she disconnected the call, and replaced the phone in the pocket of her leather jacket. Calum stared open-mouthed at her whilst Dimitri and Ruth looked marginally amused. "What was that for?" he moaned. "Now I'm going to have to face old skinny-lips when I get back."

"Skinny-lips?" Ruth questioned confusedly.

"Our new boss," Dimitri answered before Calum could respond venomously.

"But I thought you were now in charge." Ruth directed at Erin, who shook her head somewhat bitterly.

"I would like to say that was true but it isn't – instead the DG's got us answering to the incredibly bad-tempered Carl Bilberry."

"He's nothing more than a desk officer who's kissed so many bottoms that he's risen himself into a place of power where he really shouldn't be." Dimitri cut in, folding his arms across his chest as Calum nodded fervently. "The worst kind of leader."

"We have many names for him," Calum interjected innocently. "Skinny-lips, blockhead bilberry etcetera, etcetera."

Ruth however was watching Erin closely as the other two talked around her; the younger woman's face had discoloured into a chalk white, whilst she twisted the sleeves of her jacket nervously, and she was quite obviously not meeting Ruth's eyes. Ruth remembered what Dimitri had said about Erin getting an update about Harry's condition with the Americans and her heart immediately went cold. What else would Erin be cautious about telling her? She knew instantly that something had happened to Harry and she swallowed in an attempt to quell the panic fast rising within her.

"Erin, what's happened?" she asked fearfully, and the quiet fragility of her tone seemed to break Erin even more, as the younger woman closed her eyes and ran a hand over her tired face. Both Dimitri and Calum, who it seemed, had not noticed at all that something was wrong, stopped bantering and turned to stare at Ruth who sat sagged in defeat in the wheelchair, preparing for the worst news. When there was not reply they turned to look at Erin, who was chewing her lip nervously as she thought how to break the bad news.

"Erin please," Ruth continued softly. "Is it to do with Harry? Is there something wrong?"

Erin sighed and turned to stare at Dimitri who from her wary glance, automatically knew it was bad news. "Harry," she sighed. "has escaped from CIA custody."

Ruth's eyes widened in horror as she tried to comprehend these words – she had heard of horrible cases in which prisoners had escaped from the Americans, and the outcome had not come favourably at all; in fact it usually ended with the prisoner being carried away in a body bag once they had been found. "N…No." she whispered desperately.

Erin looked deeply disconcerted at Ruth's reaction and turned to stare at Dimitri, who nodded grimly for her to continue. If they were all going to trust each other, they needed to know the truth.

"They were taking him in a high security van when he managed to break free and escape, assaulting two of the guards in the vehicle."

"No… no he wouldn't." Ruth whispered, half to herself, her heart thumping rapidly at the thought of what could happen to Harry if he was found.

"Er…" Calum said tentatively. "I hate to say this Ruth, but we've all heard of what Harry's capable of."

"He promised he wouldn't do anything stupid like that," she said, trying to prevent the easy tears from gathering in her eyes. She lowered her head so that the others could not see her facial expression; it was not necessary of course, because everyone knew how she must have been feeling.

Calum only just managed to stop the sarcastic words of, "Yeah, like that last time." from running off his tongue. Perhaps Erin had perceived what he was thinking of saying, for she flashed him a warning glance and he nodded mutely in return.

"It might be a good thing Harry's escaped." Dimitri said to Ruth encouragingly, knowing that her quietness meant extreme internal distress. "I mean, at least he's not in the clutch of the Americans now."

"No," Erin sighed, knowing that sugar-coating the facts for Ruth was not going to help her in the long run, if anything did come to the man she loved. "Technically he's now on the run from the law. What are they going to think now he's escaped rather than going quietly? They're going to automatically think he's guilty." Dimitri opened his mouth to speak, but again, Erin used her intelligence to guess what he was going to say. "And somehow, I don't think even your friend Towers can help him now."

"Well," Ruth spluttered in distress, twisting her hands in a fashion that significantly portrayed her anxiety. "We've…we've got to find him…before the Americans do."

"We can't Ruth." Erin replied as gently as possible, and this time, even Dimitri knew she was right. "When the CIA took him, they took his phone, changed his clothes…we have nothing to track him by."

"Well we've got to do something!" Ruth demanded, having to fight extremely hard to blink back the tears now.

"Ruth," Dimitri said softly, his voice placating. "Erin's right…there's nothing we can…with Harry's skills of subterfuge, we'd never find him in the time we have…it'd be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. If Harry's hiding from the Americans then he doesn't want to be found, hence we'd never find him either."

Ruth really looked as if she was about to continue fighting her failing battle, before she allowed Dimitri's words to truly be processed in her head, and she suddenly realised that he was right. She tried to imagine what Harry would say to her if he was here: he would tell her to trust him of course…trust what he was doing, and most importantly, he would tell her not to lose her head and to calm down. She sniffed briefly and swallowed down the bitter feeling of worry and fear in her throat, all the while picturing Harry's smiling face in her mind's eye.

"O…Okay." She whispered quietly, nodding to Dimitri to signify her cooperation.

"Right," Erin said gently, now speaking to the room at large. "In all likelihood, if Harry's going to come out of hiding, he'll come to us."

Dimitri shrugged, "That's obvious…it's the first place he'd go." He said looking in Ruth's direction, as they all knew who would be the first person he would contact.

"Exactly," Erin nodded briskly, before her face converted to an expression rather like she had swallowed a sour lemon. "That's precisely why Carl wanted to know where we all are. He had it in his head that we had helped Harry escape since we were all conveniently absent at the time. So," she sighed. "We're all being watched."

"But," Ruth said frowning, her heart pounding ten-fold again. "But that means that if Harry does try to find us, he'll be recaptured." It was a half-question, with Ruth in the hope that she was for once wrong. However, the silent response she received was damning. "But…what do we do then? We can't-"

"If he's recaptured we _could_ break him out for real again." Dimitri suggested, feeling as if he owed more loyalty to Harry than anyone else in the service these days.

"Er, speak for yourself Chuck Norris." Calum muttered, folding his arms across his chest stubbornly.

Dimitri glared at the younger man, and even Erin frowned slightly at her colleague, "I thought that especially of late, you had actually learnt how to work as part of a team." Dimitri said in a cold voice that Ruth was very unused to hearing.

"Well it's no use trying to play the guilt card," Calum shrugged nonchalantly. "I may be up for helping out a friend, but I'll let you know I've worked long and hard for this job."

"I assume you came here," Dimitri snapped, glaring at his sarcastic colleague. "Because you wanted to help out Harry…if not then…why _are_ you here?"

"He's here because we came across some important information." Erin said, now side-stepping into the conversation before the levels of tension rose into something quite catastrophic. We came across it yesterday afternoon actually but Carl's been sniffing around, and then there was the Coaver and Harry incident…we've had to hide it until now."

"What?" Dimitri asked, wondering what Erin and Calum could possibly have been working on that he was not aware of. Ruth also sat up eagerly in the hope that this newfound information might be able to help prove Harry's innocence, or at least do some good in sorting through this mess.

Erin glanced nervously at Ruth, which again set the older woman on edge. She had a terrible gut feeling that what Erin was going to say had something to do with her, and that she almost certainly was not going to like it. She swallowed: she didn't think she could handle any more bad news.

"I don't know if now is the right time." Erin said grimly, taking in Ruth's already exhausted state. The older woman had large bags under her eyes to indicate she had not had a great deal of sleep since Harry left, whilst the way she was slumped in the wheelchair quietly pointed out that she was still completely emotionally drained.

"Erin." Calum said in a rare soft tone, whilst he also looked at Ruth's posture. Her eyes were now flicking frightened between the two of them, and he could tell that despite her tiredness, the analyst within Ruth needed answers. "We have to tell her. We're all here for the first time in...God knows how long. Who knows when we'll see each other all again? It's got to be done now."

"What is it?" Ruth asked quietly. "What's going on?"

Dimitri nodded, he too in the dark about what was going on.

"Well…"Erin sighed, raising her hands in defeat. "We…for the past few months since…since your attack," she directed at Ruth, who only just managed to keep her eyes on Erin's without dropping them to the floor. "Cal and I have been…secretly…looking for the…the people responsible."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Dimitri asked, a little hurt that she had not shared something as important as this with him. He then dropped his argument by raising a hand in apology as she looked anxiously at him, this conversation clearly difficult for her.

"Well," Erin said, trying to remember where she had left off before Dimitri interrupted. "I've been asking Calum to look at the CCTV images and perform check upon check; he's been analysing our databases for months. And then suddenly, yesterday, we found a match."

"For how many of them?" Dimitri asked, whilst Ruth could bear it no longer and had to drop her head to the floor to avoid eye contact. Apart from anything else, at the thought of her attackers, those horrible images of balaclava-clad men assailed her mind once more, and she had to close her eyes tightly to avoid any more tears. She wished she could stop the memories; stop the weakness that had overtaken her these past few months. This was why she was doing her absolute best to avoid being a further burden to everyone else; she knew she had to fight her emotions now rather than give into them.

"We've found all of them." Erin replied quietly, already worried by Ruth's reaction. True, it was not as bad as she had been expecting, and the older woman was not acting as irrationally as she had done the last time she had seen her, but Erin was still nervous about telling her the truth.

"Who are they?" Dimitri asked at once, trying not to notice Ruth tensing in preparation for what she was about to hear.

Erin sighed reluctantly once more, before delving into a leather bag sitting next to her on the dusty, neglected mattress, and drawing out a variety of different papers. She selected the middle sheet and reached across Calum to hand the piece of paper to Dimitri, who promptly took one look at it and his mouth fell open in shock.

"Are…are you sure?" he asked disbelievingly. "Are you sure this is right?" he demanded on Calum who frowned at his colleague's lack of faith in his abilities.

"Yes I'm sure." Calum muttered. "You may think me bad at most things but I'm bloody good at my job."

"But…but…" Dimitri half-whispered, gaping at the names and pictures before him. "Surely not?"

"Two of them were American," Erin continued, as Ruth lifted her head slightly to comprehend this. "And the other two were-"

"Harry said Coaver told him two of them were American." Ruth said quietly. "Willard and someone else. I…I thought I saw another one of them but…" her sentence tailed off as she began to doubt herself and she had to shrug her shoulders to save face.

"Ruth," Dimitri said gently, staring at the paper before him. He would recognise that nasty, bald head anywhere. "You were right…you were right about that guy."

Ruth slowly raised her head even further and her eyes finally met Dimitri's, and he smiled softly at her. Of course she had been right, he thought, she always was. But Ruth's heart turned cold at the thought of Harry locked in a room with that man; she knew what the brute was capable of, and she didn't think she could bear it if Harry got hurt. She breathed in deeply for a few seconds to calm herself before allowing the thoughts of Harry escaping to come to the forefront of her mind. She now could not blame him for wanting to get away. She then gritted her teeth as yet more images of that burly man knocking her painfully to the floor…straddling her…ripping her clothes off…thrusting his…no she could not think about it. She _would not_ think about it.

"The other two are…well…" Erin said, swallowing as she realised just how difficult this task was. She sat and looked at Ruth who seemed half torn between worry for Harry and fear of finding out the identity of her attackers. She remembered the senior analyst she had met on her first day on the grid; a woman who had been so mentally strong and resilient to all the wrong that went on around her.

Dimitri got to his feet and walked slowly over to where Ruth sat opposite them, offering her the sheet in his hand. She looked at it for a few seconds with frightened eyes, as if trying to work out whether this would be a good or bad idea before shaking her head fiercely.

"No." she whispered anxiously. "I…I can't look at it."

Dimitri rather thought she ought to have a look, but accepted her decision graciously. He trusted her judgement enough not to push her with something as difficult as this. On top of Harry's disappearance, looking upon these men's faces again was probably not what she needed right now.

"Do you want to know who the other two are?" he asked her gently.

Erin and Calum bit their lips as they watched Ruth try to choose between the hard and the easy decision. Eventually she said quietly, "O…Okay." She took several long deep breaths to prepare herself before Dimitri spoke.

"The Americans who…who were there were Joseph Willard and Vincent Delloy…the man…well…the man who was interrogating Harry when we saw him."

Erin and Calum's mouths fell open in horror but Dimitri pushed on, knowing Ruth had to hear this now or she would never summon enough courage to face it. "The other two were Russian."

Ruth's head shot up, immediately on alert, "W…What?" she stuttered, thinking of what Harry's had said about his suspicions of Ilya Gavrik." Had he truly organised the attack then?

"They're Russian," Dimitri repeated, a little concerned at the wide-eyed look on Ruth's face but continued on anyway. "I…I can't believe what I'm saying here but…"

"But what?" she demanded desperately.

"One of them is a junior FSB officer by the name of Anatoly Dubrovsky – he's been working for them for about five years along with his companion."

"Who?" Ruth asked, her heart pounding wildly at Dimitri's expression. He seemed truly bewildered by the information on the paper in front of him.

Dimitri sighed, before saying quickly as if it would hurt less. "The fourth man was…Sasha Gavrik, Ilya and Elena Gavrik's son."

**Dun dun dun...up next the conversation is continued and Ruth meets with Elena Gavrik... Please review xx**


	34. Chapter 34

**Because you all seemed eager for an update here is the next installment and thank you so much for the reviews. Unfortunately it will probably be a while before I update again, but I'm always thinking of new ideas. I hope you like this although you're probably all going to hate me. Please review xx**

Ruth stared at Dimitri in utter horror for a moment, praying she had just imagined what had come out of his mouth. Dimitri surveyed her from where he stood next to her, and watched her drain of colour until she became sickeningly white, and her eyes widened in either fear or anxiety. As her breathing began to accelerate that of twice its normal rate, he grew really quite concerned for her. He had been shocked by the analysis, but Ruth looked positively terrified. For an instant complete silence existed, no one daring to speak whilst Ruth tried her best to comprehend this awful information. She was now opening and closing her mouth mutely, whilst simultaneously shaking her head in denial of the situation. Eventually she seemed to find her voice which was suddenly hoarse due to her painfully dry throat:

"N…No." she whispered desperately. "No it…it can't be Sasha…he's…he's…"

She knew precisely what she wanted to say but she knew that none of her companions knew of Sasha's true biological heritage. The fact that she could not voice these things caused her to become even more distressed, and she felt the tell-tale signs that the tears were going to fall. Her chin trembled slightly, but this time she could not even raise the willpower to stop her emotions, and soon she felt her eyes blink down small tears.

"Ruth…"Dimitri said concernedly, but not moving from his standing position in case it startled her.

"I…It can't be Sasha…it can't be…he's…he's…he wouldn't…"

"We don't know him Ruth," Erin said gently, extremely uncomfortable at the situation, but none more so than Calum who was shuffling his feet nervously from next to her. "He could be involved in anything. Just because he's the son of the Russian ambassador doesn't mean he's respectable."

However this comment made Ruth's tears all the more worse and they started running down her cheeks at irregular intervals, whilst she covered her face in her hands. That was the point – Sasha Gavrik was _not_ Ilya's son. His paternal father was…was the one whose child she was currently carrying.

Taking deep breaths, she removed one hand from her face and placed it on her expanded stomach, as the baby turned to make its presence felt. Everything was such a mess…she just could not work it all out. She had always viewed everything as a puzzle and now…now she had come across a puzzle that was just too hard for her the crack.

"It…" Calum said hesitantly, wondering if his confirmatory input was required. "It is correct…I checked and double checked the analysis software, and body recog…the results are right. Those are your four attackers."

Suddenly, Ruth stretched out her hand for the sheet of paper that Dimitri was gripping, ready to see for herself now. Dimitri, unsure whether this was the right thing or not considering her current state, handed her information. Ruth held the sheet up to her face, barely glancing at the other three faces before spotting the young man named Sasha Gavrik in the bottom right hand corner. She stared at it intensely, searching out any features that would confirm the information she had heard at the Russian reception so many months ago. Please…please let it be true. Please let Sasha be Ilya's child. And yet as she stared at the photograph, she saw so many likenesses to Harry it was almost overwhelming. The young man was clearly handsome, with thick brown hair and a muscly body, and thinking back…nearly all of the men who had come that night had been muscly and forceful. But then she noticed the deep hazel eyes which had obviously been inherited from Harry – they were the same shade that she had so often got lost in over the years. They were the eyes that she had looked into when they made love that one night that seemed to very long ago. She had seen photographs of Harry in his younger years, when he was in his twenties, and Sasha Gavrik, with the exception of the dark hair, looked more or less exactly like him, with the same shaped face and lips. She closed her eyes in despair and thrust the sheet back at Dimitri who took it hastily away from her and handed it back to Erin.

There was still an eerie silence as all in the room waited for Ruth to calm, which she was doing very slowly, bringing herself into control of her emotions once again. So as not to make her uncomfortable by all staring at her as she made her recovery, Dimitri turned to Erin:

"We've got to get to these men." He said fiercely, listening to Ruth trying to bring herself under control.

"That's the point Dim," Erin answered sympathetically, and with a touch of anger in her voice at the system they worked for. "We can't search them out and...deal with them like Harry usually does. We're being watched…once we get back to the grid tonight, we'll be under twenty-four hour surveillance."

"Well we can't just let them get away with this." Dimitri sighed, as Ruth started to get her breathing back to normal.

"For the time being, we can't do anything." Erin reasoned. "Willard's already dead, both Dubrovsky and Gavrik are in the FSB and we'd never get near them, and…and from what you said Delloy is a CIA officer, but he's as bent as anything if he's interrogating Harry, and was involved in the attack."

Ruth remembered that harsh voice and cold, nasty eyes and she closed her eyes to block out the images. Instead, she began to think about Harry, who more than ever she was desperate to see again. He was in danger, and although she had just made an absolutely horrifying discovery, Harry had to come first.

"I…I'm very grateful for all you've done." She spoke at last, directing the words to each and every one of them. "But…but for now surely we've got to concentrate on helping Harry."

Dimitri frowned, "Ruth, you're not just going to take with a pinch of salt what they did to you are you?"

She knew what Dimitri was suggesting, but she also realised that he had been spending far too much time under Harry's influence. She knew very well what would happen if they started going down that route – all of those men would end up dead. Granted, that night had been the most terrifying and painful night of her life, and she never wanted to see any of those men again, but if they started bumping them off…they would kill Harry's son. And no matter what the young man had done to her that night, she knew he was still Harry's.

"Erin's right." She said sniffing to relieve her runny nose. "We have no choice but to leave it for now. Besides, since when did killing achieve anything…and you've already risked your careers enough for my account."

"I think," Dimitri said, looking at his other two companions for support. "With the exception of Calum who's sometimes a bit of a pompous arse, we'd all risk our careers on your account."

Calum looked slightly indignant, "Not true, I should let you know." He argued, smiling at Ruth.

Ruth in turn was extremely touched at their loyalty towards her, and she could not help but smile back, flashing a special smile at Dimitri who had very recently become her rock in all of this. Dimitri was not only attracting the attentions of one woman, as Erin was staring at him in utter adoration for his gentleness with Ruth, and was secretly thinking that she loved him more than ever.

"Thank you," Ruth said quietly. "Thank you very much…but…but all I want to do right now is help Harry."

It went without saying why she wanted to help him, and they all nodded immediately. Dimitri sat back down on the bed, so that they were all facing her.

"Right," Erin said briskly, rather wishing that Calum was not still sitting between them. "I think we'd better start from the beginning. What happened with Coaver?"

Ruth and Dimitri stared at each other for a moment, before Dimitri indicated that he would start off. He owed Harry that – it was because of his awry plan that Harry had been taken by the Americans in the first place.

"Harry and I were convinced that Jim Coaver was behind all of this…the assassinations attempts on Elena Gavrik-"

"I wonder if she knows her precious son is a rapist?" Calum spat out, causing Dimitri to frown at him before continuing.

"And that he was behind the attack on Ruth, and that he was sending messages, supposedly from Harry to Elena Gavrik."

"But why would he do that?" Erin asked suspiciously, realising that she was missing something here. "Why would Harry even send messages to Elena Gavrik?"

Dimitri sighed, looking to Ruth for permission, and she nodded. She had recounted almost everything to Dimitri back at the house, feeling the need for honesty was a great virtue at the moment. The only things she had kept back were the ones that she knew Harry would want to be kept a secret, like his affair with Elena, and of course, Sasha.

"During the Cold War, when Harry was in Berlin at the same time as the Gavriks', he managed to turn her."

"No." Erin said disbelievingly. "Elena Gavrik, wife of the infamous Ilya Gavrik spied for British?"

Dimitri nodded grimly, trying to comprehend just how complicated things were going to get, especially with their newfound knowledge on Sasha Gavrik.

"She provided vital information to the British side during the Cold War, but when it ended, she chose to stay with Ilya – she had already given birth to Sasha and the boy needed his father. She's been safe as long as Ilya hasn't found out what she did for the British during the war."

Ruth frowned at the thought of Elena staying with Ilya, despite the fact that she had had Harry's child. Ruth could tell when she looked into Harry's eyes when he had talked to her that one time about Sasha, that he had been heartbroken to leave him behind in Russia.

"But a few months ago, Elena approached Harry at the Russian reception to tell him that she had been receiving messages from him again, containing all of his codes and protocols, but they weren't from him."

Erin nodded in understanding and Dimitri took this as the signal to continue.

"So I organised a small…erm…incident to happen outside Harry's house and while the watchers were kept busy, I got Harry out of the house and we kidnapped Coaver."

Erin tutted and rolled her eyes at his stupidity, "How?"

"I pretended to be Coaver's driver." He admitted and she shook her head disapprovingly, but she allowed him to continue. "Coaver was very reluctant as you can imagine, but we took him to an old MI5 safe house so that we could question him. I left the room to keep watch, and Harry interrogated Coaver."

"That wasn't a very smart idea." Calum snorted. "Leaving Coaver in a room with Harry."

"Well, as it was, Coaver ended up dead, but it wasn't Harry who killed him." Dimitri said, glaring at his younger colleague. "The guy who did shoot him was obviously a trained assassin and he knew his tactics. He parked his car a few metres away from the house so that we probably couldn't catch the ID number on the CCTV cameras, or even his face when he ran away."

"Wait a minute," Erin frowned. "If there were cameras around the sides of the house, and you did manage to pick this guy up, why don't you just show it as proof of Harry's innocence?"

Dimitri shook his head bitterly. "I tried, believe me, I tried." He sighed. "I was shoved out of the door by Harry so that I wouldn't get into trouble as well as him. I went back to the grid to try and make my presence known and find out what had happened to Harry. Then, before I went to see Ruth, I went back to the scene. I was allowed in because I work for Towers," he tutted. "It seems that has some advantages after all. Erin and Ruth smiled briefly at this comment before he continued, "But I accessed the camera footage, and there was none."

"There was _none_?" Erin repeated.

Dimitri shook his head in reply, "No, the tape had been completely wiped."

"The tape?" Calum asked in disgust, as if this old-fashioned device was a technological blasphemy.

"Let's not forget that this safe house is an old safe house. It doesn't have the computers that safe houses have these days." Dimitri argued. "But the tapes are still supposed to run."

"So someone wiped the tape?" Erin asked.

"Seems like it." Dimitri answered grimly.

"For God's sake," Calum groaned. "Who exactly are we up against here? It would help if we knew who we were up against.

"That's the problem," Dimitri sighed. "It's just one long web of lies. Anyway I picked up Ruth and we went to see Harry who told her what happened in the room." He glanced at Ruth to see if she was ready to recount the information and she nodded determinedly; the analyst within her was back and was as sharp as ever.

"As Coaver was dying, he confessed to participating in the sending of the notes and…and that night…and for Tariq's…death." She looked incredibly sad for a moment before she forced herself onwards. "But he also said that he wasn't alone. He claimed that he had been working as part of a syndicate that consisted of three other people."

"Did he say who they were?" Erin asked eagerly, hoping they were finally going to be able to get to the bottom of this mess.

"He didn't get the chance." Ruth said shortly. "But according to Harry, he did say that Ilya Gavrik was mentioned."

"_Ilya_ Gavrik?" Erin repeated. "Ye God's," she exclaimed. "Why is it that all of these trails lead to the Gavriks'?"

"Because they're all rotten to the core and are up to their eyeballs in this mess?" Calum suggested, half-joking but Ruth could not help but silently agree. It could not be a coincidence that Ilya Gavrik was mixed up in this, and that Sasha had…well…had been involved as well.

"Well, Elena's not. But is she really completely ignorant to her husband and her son's activities?" Dimitri asked doubtfully. There was only so much you could hide from a wife and mother, and he very much doubted that she was completely unaware of all they did.

"I've been babysitting Elena Gavrik an awful lot recently," Erin shrugged. "She's not been doing anything out of the ordinary. Ilya on the other hand…well…he seems…at times a little overzealous."

"So that begs to question of who the other two people are…" Dimitri continued.

Ruth bit her lip before voicing something that had truly been worrying her since her conversation with Harry, "Harry…Harry wanted me to warn Elena…about what her husband might be up to."

They all stared at her for a few seconds before Dimitri shook his head, "You don't have to do that Ruth."

Yes I do." She said as calmly as possible.

"You don't have to put yourself in danger, or in the pathway of either Ilya or Sasha Gavrik." Dimitri warned her. "I have clearance to visit the Gavrik's so I can tell her, or Erin can." He said nodding his head in Erin's direction, who promptly nodded her response.

"I want to do it." Ruth argued determinedly.

"There's no way you're going to be able to get clearance to meet her." Dimitri insisted.

"Dimitri," Ruth said impatiently, now very much the old Ruth. "Either you can help me to see her, or I will find a way myself. Either way…I want to see her."

She did not know where this sudden desire to see Elena Gavrik had come from, but then again, she had some questions she wanted Elena to answer.

Very hesitantly, Erin and Dimitri looked at one another, rolling their eyes before nodding in response.

"Got a plan?" Erin asked, folding her arms across her chest.

* * *

><p>"You don't have to do this if you don't want to." Dimitri told Ruth as they waited in the car, she fiddling nervously in the passenger seat. Any moment now, Erin was going to arrive with Elena and he was still very doubtful as to Ruth's reasons for wanting to see the Russian woman. He knew for sure that she had not fully recovered psychologically from the attack, and he prayed she was not going to let sparks fly with Elena over what Sasha had done. He looked across at her and saw that same grim look of determination. There was something indistinctive about her expression…something he did not recognise and seemed unnatural in her, but he could not think for the life of him what it was. Now she shook her head stubbornly:<p>

"No," she replied. "I…I have to do this."

"For who?" Dimitri asked curiously. "Harry, Elena or yourself?"

Even Ruth found herself unable to answer that question so she just shrugged her shoulders, "I…I honestly don't know the answer to that." She said honestly.

"Well when they arrive," he said gently to her. "Erin and I are going to move away some distance so that you can have your privacy, but if anything happens, we can get to you quickly."

She nodded gratefully, "Thank you."

Just as she was finishing her sentence, and Dimitri was checking his watch, a silver escort drove up from the opposite end of the deserted car park, pulling up just in front of them. Dimitri took a glance through the windscreen of the car before his queries were concerned that it was just Erin and Elena sitting in the two front seats.

"Come on," he said gently as Ruth suddenly looked quite fazed by the idea. "You need to do this, remember?"

She hesitated before smiling back at him briefly, "Right…yes…you're right."

With that, she tugged open the car door, and Dimitri followed suite, closing the door behind him. They met Erin and Elena, who was dressed in the same lavish attire that Ruth had seen so often in the photos of her, in the middle of the empty space. Elena was staring at Ruth the whole time with that odd mix between pursed lips and smirk, and Ruth immediately began to doubt herself, subconsciously pulling her coat as best she could around her enormous stomach. It did not help her confidence that the coat quite plainly no longer fitted her, and Elena's eyes had travelled down her body and were also staring intensely at her stomach. Eventually they came to a stop in front of Erin and Elena and Ruth tried not to notice how much shorter she was in comparison to Elena.

"Thought you'd never manage it." Dimitri said cheekily to Erin, who gave him a light, friendly punch in the arm.

"Oi." She said, although she was smiling. "Elena just told her husband she needed to do some shopping, and that she'd be quite safe with me."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise at Elena, "Quite the actress?"

"Erin tells me that you know about me spying for the British in Berlin." She said in her thick Russian accent, smiling pleasantly, but her eyes never leaving Ruth's. "So I suppose I can say honestly that I am used to the acting." She finally drew her eyes away from Ruth and turned to Dimitri, "Harry said that you would be loyal and reliable…and you are." She said pleasantly, whilst Ruth could not help but feel hurt that Harry had been discussing recent events with Elena, and supposed it must have happened that night she had been found on the rooftop. "But Erin did not tell me why I am here?" she said with a question in her voice.

"Ruth…had to meet with you." Dimitri answered, nodding to Erin to join him a distance away from the two older women, at the other end of the deserted car park. "We'll leave you to it." He flashed an encouraging smile at Ruth, who was still clutching her stomach anxiously, and walked away with Erin.

There was silence for a moment between the pair whilst Ruth thought of what to say first, and Elena surveyed Ruth top to bottom. As usual, she had that air of absolute power, and Ruth was not surprised when she got first say in the conversation.

"You are getting very big Ruth," she said, presumably as a compliment to the baby, but Ruth felt that she was aiming it rather more as an insult. "How far along are you?"

"About eight months." Ruth replied shortly, literally forcing herself from cringing as Elena reached out a hand and placed it on her bump. As if in retaliation to its mother's enemy, the baby kicked hard against her stomach, causing her to gasp slightly, and Elena gave a slightly throaty chuckle.

"It will be footballer no?" she said smiling, but Ruth could sense no warmth in the smile.

"I would rather it be a classicist actually." Ruth said, trying her best to hold her own, and stare back at Elena despite her unnerving stance. "Or a teacher."

"You would not like it to be a MI5 officer like it's father and mother?" Elena asked curiously.

"No." Ruth said immediately. "I want it to be safe and kind and…" she shrugged. "In MI5 all the life and soul gets sucked out of you. I wouldn't want that for any child, especially my own."

They both knew that Ruth was aiming at Sasha now and Elena's smile thinned.

"I heard about what happened to you." She said. "I am sorry."

Ruth thought she could sense that Elena was anything but sorry, and could not stop herself from saying suddenly, "Did you know that there were four of them that night?"

Elena's eyes gave nothing away but she had frozen to the spot, her smile no longer lingering. "No."

"And did you know that Sasha was one of the ones that did it?"

Elena's face still gave nothing away but she narrowed her eyes at Ruth. "You cannot be serious."

"Oh believe me Elena," Ruth snapped. "I wouldn't joke about that night. We have proof that your son was…was one of the ones that…" she tailed off, unable to continue despite her resolve to be strong.

Elena stared at Ruth now, no friendliness there whatsoever, "My son is not a rapist." She said shortly.

"We have proof." Ruth repeated again, adding quietly. "And believe me; I wouldn't make anything like this up." She swallowed before preparing herself with what to say next. "I know that Sasha is Harry's son…and that Harry wouldn't want anything to happen to him…for any reason…even if he…" she tailed off again, cursing herself inwardly for her weakness. "I suppose I'm giving you a warning that…that friends of mine…despite what I say…they might come after him"

"They would harm him?" Elena asked, her eyes quite aghast but her pokerface still remaining.

"You've known Harry," Ruth said quietly. "You know what his solution would be to something like this. He's influenced a great many people."

Elena nodded, but still said, "You are wrong about Sasha."

"I really hope you're right." Ruth told her honestly.

"Did you come here to insult my son?" Elena asked sharply and Ruth gritted her teeth and literally forced her head to stay up and not look away from Elena's piercing gaze.

"No," she said quietly. "I came here because of something Harry told me to do…and because I want to know if you can do anything to help him."

There was a silence before Elena said, her facial expression still not giving anything away – probably the act of a good spy, "I heard about Harry...and I would do anything to help him if I could…of course I would. He makes mistakes but he is a good man."

Ruth nodded her agreement, but could not help but feel jealous at the softness in Elena's eyes that had yielded as soon as she said Harry's name. "Then…then please," she pleaded, deciding she would have to put her jealousy and dislike of Elena behind her to help Harry. "Can't you do anything to help Harry?"

Elena looked at her, and Ruth swore she saw a smirk pass over her features, presumably smug about the fact that she had now resorted to begging for the older woman's help, "I cannot do anything Ruth…Harry escaped so I am powerless to find him."

"But if you tell your husband-" Ruth began, but Elena cut her off swiftly.

"Ilya does not like Harry." She said. "He thinks that he is far too pompous and righteous for his own good. Of course I would like to help him…but if I do, Ilya might become suspicious of why I want to help him. I…I cannot put myself or my son in that kind of danger. You say that Harry is capable of killing a person out of revenge…Ilya…perhaps he is even more so."

Ruth sighed, inwardly furious that Elena was not prepared to go out on a limb for Harry, but also understanding that she could not blow her cover. If she did then Sasha might be in danger, and despite all the young man had done, Ruth couldn't bear anything happening to him because it would upset Harry so very much. She also knew that regardless of what he said, Harry still cared about Elena, and would be equally upset if anything happened to her. Eventually, Ruth nodded, remembering the warning Harry had instructed her to give Elena.

"Elena…"she said quietly. "A…About Ilya." Elena's eyes instantly narrowed and Ruth was suddenly aware that she was now glaring at her. Unable to cope anymore, Ruth bowed her head to avoid the older woman's furious gaze, and told herself to take a series of very long deep breaths. It had been a very long day and she was utterly exhausted, not to mention emotionally drained, and she did not think she could take much more accusatory looks from Elena. Her feet and back were in agony, and all she wanted was to go home. But home was not home without Harry. It was Harry's house and not hers, and it seemed to empty without that wonderful man. So she forced herself on, thinking of Harry's pleading face when asking her to warn Elena.

"What?" Elena was asking her. "What about my husband?"

"When…when Harry was interrogating Jim Coaver," Ruth began, trying to empathise with how difficult this must be for Elena to hear this criticism of the man she had spent over thirty years of her life with. "Coaver admitted to being involved with the attempts to stop the Anglo-Russian agreement, and your assassination attempt and…lot's more things." She bit her lip and continued on slowly. "But Coaver also admitted that he was not alone…he was merely involved and there were three other people in the organisation and…and he named your husband as…well…as one of them."

Elena stood staring at Ruth with an odd expression on her face before shaking her head slowly from side to side, her perfect curls shaking in the slight breeze. "It is a lie. You are accusing my whole family today of something Ruth. Am I next? What have I done?"

Ruth would have liked to have listed a great many things but couldn't bring herself to so she shook her head, "N…no that's not my intention."

"Then what _is_ your intention?"

"Harry told me to warn you…to be careful of Ilya. We don't know what he's capable of."

"I know what he is capable of," Elena snapped. "He is my husband."

Just as Ruth opened her mouth to speak a sudden noise alerted them to the fact that they were not alone. Erin and Dimitri had apparently heard it as well because they both whipped round from their conversation at the same time to see a large black van careering around the car park's entrance. By the time Ruth and Elena had even comprehended what was happening, the van had grinded to a sudden stop in front of them, and two men were sliding back the door.

"Shit!" Dimitri yelled, pulling his pistol out of his holster and dashing towards the scene, Erin hot at his heals. "Ruth!"

His words went unnoticed however, as both she and Elena were seized by two burly men, wearing nothing but black, with the addition of a black balaclava. Ruth stood stock still in utter fear as she realised her worst nightmare was about to be relived for the second time; she could do nothing. Her face had paled, and her heart was almost bursting out of her chest, and it was all she could do not to faint. Before she got a chance to even think about running away, one of the men had gripped her tightly by the waist, and bashing dispassionately against her baby bump, he bundled her into the back of the van. She promptly hit her head on the metal floor and her vision became blurry, as if she might be swimming underwater. She tried her best to hold on because she had no idea what they would do to her if she lost consciousness, but as Elena was bundled in after her, she felt something warm against her temple, and as she saw deep scarlet dribble down just beside her right eye she realised it was blood. She did not get a chance to realise much after that because she passed out.

Dimitri was almost in range to fire at the man hauling Elena inside the van when he slid the door shut, blocking him from view. In turn, Dimitri aimed to shoot out the tyres, Erin also pulling her pistol out of her back pocket, however as the van began to speed away, they were forced to fall to the ground in order to avoid being shot by the several rounds of bullets that were being blasted from the direction of the passenger seat. As soon as the firing stopped, Dimitri clambered to his feet and took off after the van, despite the fact that it had already made it out of the car park by that stage.

"No!" he cried, as he watched the van disappear off. As soon as sense hit him, he made a dash for his car, Erin following his lead and getting into the passenger seat beside him. "No, no, no, no, no!" Dimitri yelled. "This can't be happening! This can't be bloody happening!"

He started the engine and sped out of the car park at a top speed, however when he reached the entrance again he saw that the van was long gone. With Ruth in it.

"NO!" he yelled, thumping the steering wheel so that the horn let off a loud screech. "Did you get the license plate?" he demanded of Erin.

She swallowed from next to him, looking very pale indeed, before shaking her head, "No."

"SHIT!" Dimitri cried, again taking his frustrations out on the steering wheel until he felt Erin's warm hand on his shoulder. He stopped momentarily and looked at her white face, "What have we done?"

**Shock horror...what on earth is happening? Most of the time even I don't know, but I'm just making it up as I go along really. Really hope you liked it. I'll try and update as soon as I can. Please review and let me know what you think xx**


	35. Chapter 35

**Sorry for the delay, but I got this to you as fast as I could, despite my busy last couple of weeks. Thank you so much for the absolutely fabulous reviews - they all really encourage me to continue, which is why I've spent the last few hours trying to type this up for you all. We now face Ruth's abduction, and who exactly is behind this, and whether Ruth is going to get hurt any further. I hope you like this, and please review xxx**

Ruth was cold. In amendment to that statement she was absolutely freezing, and her head hurt. A lot. She stirred out of the depths of unconsciousness, trying to work out where exactly she was in Harry's house, because she did not remember feeling as cold in his house. It was always warm and cosy, and had a faint scent of vanilla about it which made it all the wonderful. She groaned slightly as she moved her head and a searing pain flashed across her right temple. She moved a hand up to lightly touch it and felt something warm and sticky, so that by the time she had brought her hand back down she already knew it was blood, even without opening her eyes.

It was then that it all began to hit her and she remembered everything at once – Harry being sent down, Harry escaping, meeting Erin and Calum and the hospital and then visiting Elena. She let out a gasp as she remembered those two large burly men and automatically she opened her eyes to scan round wildly. She may as well have not bothered to open them because all she saw was complete darkness, and she could not even sense a single light source. Judging from the way she was freezing and the excruciating pain in her back and head, she was lying on an ice cold stone floor, surrounded by stone walls, which would explain the lack of heat and sound. Despite all the protests from her back, she pushed herself up and with great difficultly dragged herself across the room towards the nearest wall, where she sat slumped for a few minutes trying to get her breath back. When she felt she was a little bit stronger she reached her hand down to stroke her stomach, feeling a little comforted by the fact that as soon as she made contact, the baby kicked hard against her hand. Ruth breathed a huge sigh of relief before her mind flitted back to the awful images of those men dragging her into the van, and she tried to hold back a sob. It took even more energy for her to reach lower and check that she had not been disturbed, and she finally released the sob of emotion as she was reassured that there was no pain or blood. Ruth withdrew her hand back up her body before resting it over her large stomach again, and sobbing into the darkness. Elena was nowhere to be seen. Who knew what those men might have done to her? And she was almost certainly next.

"I…I'm so sorry little one." She cried, bowing her head in defeat. Although she had never actually talked to the baby before, it now felt oddly right and extremely comforting to know that she was not alone. "I…I told your daddy that I'd be the worst mother in the world…and I was right…as usual." She sniffed and used her other hand to wipe her nose. "I w…wish that for once…just for once I was wrong. B…because when I'm right it always seems to hurt." Ruth stroked her stomach once more as the baby seemed to calm a little. "I al…always seem to p…put you in some s…s…sort of danger, don't I?" she sobbed. "If y…you had someone else for a m…mother…y…you'd be so much better off. You deserve two parents wh…who are going to constantly look after you and keep y…you safe…not spooks like us." She sniffed as the baby kicked again, this time with a little less impact, and she suddenly thought what Harry would say to her if he found her in this state.

"Y…You know your dad would probably tell me off for falling to pieces in a crisis like this. He always seems to know what to do in a situation like this." The thought of Harry made her calm slightly, and she began to breathe more easily. "H…He's a good man your dad – not many people see the goodness in him but…but I'm one of the lucky ones to have seen it. H…He'd be here with us if he could…I know he would…he loves you very much…it's just th…things are a bit of a mess at the moment"

She continued to take some deep soothing breaths, all the while stroking her expanded stomach until the baby gradually stopped its kicking. "H…He's made some mistakes, your dad," she sniffed, smiling slightly as she thought of the time he had held her after the baby had produced its first kick. "And sometimes…well…over the last few years I've probably been too hard on him…and often I've wondered why he bothers to stick around with someone like me. I think it's partly because he loves you and he doesn't want to abandon you… and then I see the way he looks at me, and no matter how much I try to deny it to myself, I know he loves me. And…" she hesitated, wishing that she had told Harry this sooner. "And I never say it nearly so often enough that…that I love him. Utterly and completely. And…and I wanted more than anything to believe that we were going to get our fairy-tale happy ending but…but since when did spooks have the chance to be happy?"

She sniffed once more, forcing yet more tears back and replacing her expression with that of determination, and gritting her teeth she reached up to erase the remainder of her tears. Ruth then replaced her hand back on her stomach and rubbed it gently, trying her best to make her voice light and gentle, "But don't you worry little one," she whispered, trying to recall that image of Harry telling her with pride that she was a born spook, "No matter what happens, I will try to get you out of this mess…I'll do my best not to let _them_ hurt you." She sniffed again anxiously as a sudden horrific thought struck her, "Whoever _they _are."

With that, she began to shiver as her body began to tell her just how cold she was, and she withdrew her knees up to her chest for warmth, as much as she could with the baby bump. When they could reach no further, Ruth wrapped her arms around her knees and allowed her herself to fall gently onto the ground, curling up on her left side; snuggled up only to the stone cold wall.

* * *

><p>"Get in there!" A cold, unfriendly, gravelly voice snapped in to the darkness.<p>

Ruth, who had been fighting to stay conscious ready for when her captors returned, had helplessly been drifting in and out of sleep due to the large gash on her forehead. The voice registered in the back of her brain, forcing her out of her slumber, and telling her body to move away from the source. Yet, she discovered that her body was now so cold that however hard she tried, she could not move or coordinate the necessary parts, and so she remained lying defenceless on the stone floor.

"I said IN NOW!"

However much she could not move, Ruth was almost thankful that she automatically jumped at the loathing and fierceness in the man's voice. She shut her eyes tight and was in explicably glad that her arms were still wrapped tightly and protectively around her stomach, as she heard a scuffling coming ever nearer.

"I'll remove the blindfold now." She heard the same voice growl, and Ruth frowned as she finally realised the man could not possibly be talking to her. She also realised with a jolt of horror that she certainly did recognise that man's voice; it was the same brute of a man who had led those three other men that night; it was the same man who had tormented Harry during his interrogation – the American counterpart of Willard…Vincent Delloy.

"MOVE!" Delloy yelled once more at the other prisoner who began to shuffle blindly in the darkness after having the blindfold removed.

Ruth realised that it must be Elena, and listened intently to the direction in which she was heading, so that she might reach her later, when or if Delloy left them alone. It was almost as if Delloy had read her mind, even in the pitch black darkness, because she heard him turn towards a heavy metal door before saying, "And as for you…I'll be back for you soon…and believe me when I say this…it won't be pretty."

Ruth felt herself begin to shake again and her hands clasped tighter against her stomach. The heavy metal door slammed shut, the sound spookily reverberating around the stone chamber, before an equally unfriendly clanging of metal sounded as the key turned in the lock. Ruth tried hard not to think about what was going to happen when Delloy returned for his prey, but she was unsuccessful and the horrible images she always fought to get rid of returned. She was shaking uncontrollably by now, and could not help but release a whimper of fear into the darkness. The shuffling of feet over on the other side of the room halted almost immediately, and she knew the other occupant must have heard her. Ye the person who spoke was not Elena; not even close.

"Who's there?" an incredibly familiar male voice growled hoarsely into the blackness.

Ruth's breath hitched as she heard those two words uttered. This had to be a trick; it had to be…it was not possible that he was here.

"I said speak." The man said again, this time a little more gently, as he realised he must have frightened her. "Who's there?"

It could not be possible that he was here; the one man she wanted to see more than anything in the world. How could he be here? He had been captured by the Americans… And then it all made sense – of course it was Harry. It was Delloy who had been in the room just now, and it was Delloy who had jurisdiction over Harry when he had supposedly 'escaped'. Except Ruth realised now that he had not escaped; just like her, he had been captured by the Americans and now was awaiting a less than favourable fate. Ruth tried to summon her voice, and roll over onto her back to try and reach him, but all speech and movement seemed to fail her.

"I won't hurt you." Harry said even more gently. "Whoever you are…my name is Harry Pearce…I work for, or at least I used to work for the security services. Who are you?"

Ruth cleared her throat, still trying to move despite her body's insistent protests. She was so cold, her hands, feet and legs had become completely numb, and her head hurt like hell. As she tried to raise herself up with great difficulty, the gash on her forehead came into contact with the wall and she let out a moan of pain.

Harry's heavy breathing stopped suddenly, "Ruth?" he asked fearfully. "Ruth, is that you?"

"H…Harry." She managed, finally succeeding in dragging her back up against the wall so that she was in a sitting position.

"Ruth!" he cried, hurrying as fast as he could in the darkness, his trained ears listening for her whimpers and heavy breathing in the darkness. Finally, she felt his foot come into contact with her own numb one and he stopped immediately, crouching down before her and embracing her freezing form in the dark. "Oh my precious thing." He whispered fiercely into her shoulder as her arms found their way around his back. She felt him squeeze her as tightly as he could, before releasing her slightly, apparently realising that he could potentially harm the baby. "Oh God Ruth," he whispered fiercely. "Have they hurt you? Have they hurt you in any way?"

She took the opportunity of his slackened grip and found his left hand with her right, feeling reassured with its warmth and familiarity. "N…No." she whispered back, ashamed that her voice still contained traces of her previous outburst of tears and fear. "No…I mean…when they took me I hit my head, and there's a bit of bleeding there. And I think because of it, I'm feeling a bit dizzy…but that's all."

"Where did you hit your head?" he asked gently, unable to see the wound through the darkness, but Ruth felt him squeeze her hand to indicate that she should direct him to the gash. She lifted his hand and placed it on her red and sticky forehead. The blood had since become quite cold, but thankfully it was no longer bleeding freshly, and was beginning to form a scab. She felt his hand stroke the sore skin for a moment, before he shifted in front of her and kissed the wound tenderly.

"I don't think it's anything too serious." He admitted, but she could hear the anger in his voice at them hurting her.

"What about you?" she asked urgently. "Did they hurt you?"

Harry closed his eyes as he felt her soft skin drift up his arm and caress his slightly swollen face. She must have felt him wince when her fingers came into contact with a particularly nasty bruise over his left eye because she stopped and whispered apologetically, "Sorry."

He could not help but smile slightly, "Don't be, believe me." He whispered gently. "You're quite soothing."

"Only quite?" she teased, despite her anxiety at their situation.

"Very." He amended quickly, pressing another tender kiss to her wounded forehead.

Unable to help herself, Ruth suddenly shivered in reaction to the cold, and Harry automatically pulled back. "Sorry…sorry if that was…" A thought suddenly occurred to him and he reached for her other hand and held them both tightly. "Ruth, they didn't…they didn't…you know…"

"No." she whispered back, although he could hear the fear in her voice. "No…n…not yet at least."

"They won't at all." Harry growled firmly. "Trust me sweetheart, I won't let them."

Ruth tried to believe him and nodded, but again felt herself shiver. Harry noticed again and realised her shaking must be for entirely different reasons. It suddenly occurred to him just how freezing her skin was to touch, and she was not even wearing her coat for warmth. "Come here." He whispered, drawing her against his chest for warmth, and she gladly complied, snuggling against the cotton of his now grimy shirt. His arms remained tight around her protectively as he whispered: "Did they grab you at home?"

She shook her head, "No," she said, unable to believe how much calmer she suddenly felt now that she was near him. "No, I was meeting Elena at Doghouse 5 with Erin and Dimitri, to warn her about Ilya."

"Elena?" he asked sharply, and she felt his heart skip a beat under her ear at the prospect of his former lover in trouble.

She swallowed and nodded again, "Yes…I'm…I'm so sorry Harry…they took Elena as well."

"What the hell would they want Elena for?" he demanded of thin air.

"Who the hell are they?" Ruth amended for him. "Why do they want _us_ in the first place, and what are they up to?"

Harry could not help but smile at her brilliance to think laterally in such a situation, "Quite."

"What…"Ruth whispered hesitantly. "What do you think they're doing to Elena?"

"All I can say is," Harry said fiercely. "That they had better not be doing to her what they have just been doing to me."

Ruth could only imagine how many beatings he had taken and closed her eyes to block out the mere thought of Harry in agony.

"But that's the point," he continued. "Up until now, it's just been mindless violence. Apart from that scum of an American, I haven't seen or heard from anyone…they haven't asked me for anything…they haven't told me why they want me so badly. They've just-"

"Beaten you." Ruth finished for him, swallowing loudly.

Harry seemed to realise the implication of what this meant when it eventually became her turn to be 'interrogated', and his grip on her tightened even more. "Over my dead body is that going to happen to you again." He said strongly, knowing what she was thinking.

"Harry," she said, paling even though he could not see it in the darkness. "Please do not say that."

"Say what?" he asked.

"Over your…d…dead body." She stammered, the last two words causing her pain to even utter them.

There was a moment's hesitation, during which Harry looked down at her shaking form in adoration before saying quietly, "I'm sorry…but it's true. I would die before letting anything happen to you."

"Stop being so stubborn." Ruth said, trying her best to keep the tone light.

"I think you'll find you're the stubborn one." He bantered gently with her. "The analogy of 'mule' springs to mind."

She could not help but produce a small smile and but she hit him lightly on the chest in fake annoyance, "Shut up."

Harry winced as her thump angered yet another bruise but he tried not to let it affect her, for he was attempting to keep her mind off the situation. "How's the baby?" he asked.

"I think it's okay." She said quietly. "It's been kicking so I think that's a good sign."

She felt him nod satisfactorily, "Yes, that's a good sign." He agreed.

Ruth took a deep breath as she finally voiced a worry that had been hanging over her since she woke up. "Harry…I'm eight months pregnant."

"I know." He said, trying to keep his concern for her out of his voice.

"No, you don't understand." She continued anxiously, her breathing beginning to speed up slightly again. "If I'm that far along…if…if I get stressed or…or they…they…do that to me again-"

"Ruth-"

"-I could go into…into premature labour-"

"Ruth-"

"And what if I'm stuck here when…when the baby comes…what if something happens to it?"

"I won't let that happen." Harry said firmly.

"But Harry," she whispered, tears now beginning to helplessly flow helplessly down her cheeks. "With our…situation over the past few months…I don't…I don't know h…how to …

"To what?"

"To…give birth." She whispered the last part, burying her face back into his chest in shame.

Harry smiled slightly and kissed the top of her head gently. "You don't need to worry about that Ruth," he said. "All first time mothers are as nervous as you. Jane was even more so before she had Catherine."

He felt her chuckle slightly against him, despite her tears. "We're in a place in which we're most likely never going to reappear from again…facing the likely prospect of a painful death, and an even more painful interrogation, and you're telling me not to worry."

Harry shrugged, "The way I see it Ruth," he said gently. "Is if you take things in your stride and do your absolute best not to let these bastards get you down…then it's bound to hurt less."

"Are you going to take your own advice?" she asked.

Harry chuckled in earnest, "Probably not."

"And why not?" she demanded, desperate to keep this light tone going, otherwise she was afraid she might fall to pieces.

"Because I'm shit scared." Harry admitted suddenly.

Ruth stopped suddenly and looked up at his face, which was set grimly, even though she could not see it. "You're what?"

"Shit scared." Harry finished calmly.

"But," Ruth said, unbelievably touched by Harry's show of emotion. "Harry Pearce never gets scared. He's the head of counter-terrorism…he's not allowed to get scared."

"And yet he still does." Harry shrugged. "But I'm a spook, and fifty per cent of being spook is the ability to act and pretend that you're not scared, even when you feel like you're about to crumble."

Ruth swallowed and looked down at the floor, thinking over the past few months, "If that's true, I'm not really a born spook am I?"

"Are you scared _now_?" Harry asked gently, and felt her nod against him. "So you're scared, but you're not letting it show."

Ruth bit her lip before saying quietly, "That's because I'm with you." She admitted blushingly.

Harry smiled slightly, "Well then that's good because I promise I'm not leaving you."

"You'll have no choice when they come to get me." Ruth reminded him, swallowing.

"I'm not leaving you alone with them." He said firmly. "If I've got you into this, then I'm most certainly getting you out of it."

"How?" she asked quietly, seeing no way of getting out soon, especially with the whole place in pitch black. She assumed that the way into the chamber must be pitch black as well because there was no light from a crack under the door. She also guessed that they were being held in the middle of nowhere because she could hear no cars whizzing past outside.

"Don't know yet." Harry admitted determinedly. "But we'll find a way."

"Harry," she said quietly but practically. "We're probably in the middle of nowhere, miles from any communication source or road; this room is pitch black so we can barely see each other let alone a way out, and I'm so fat that even if we did find our way out, I couldn't run at all. I'd only pull you back."

She uttered the last part of the sentence so quietly Harry was sure he could hear the tears in her voice. She still thought she was utterly useless, which could not be further from the truth. She had never once held him back, and she was not going to now.

"We'll find a way Ruth." He repeated fiercely. "Because I'm not leaving you and that baby here for them to do God knows what."

There was a pause as Ruth considered the fierce determination in his words, "Harry," she whispered.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

Harry smiled widely before frowning slightly, "If that's in case we're about to die then don't say it." He said firmly. "We are going to get out of this, and then you can say it."

"But what if I genuinely mean it?" she asked, not willing to admit that that fear had partly been the reason she had said it.

"Then I love you too." He said gently. "More than anything in the world."

She felt him kiss her hair once more before they slipped into silence. He held her in his lap, pressing her against his chest protectively, both awaiting the moment when their captors would come back, and hopefully reveal what it was they actually wanted.

"When they come through that door it's going to be just like that night." Ruth suddenly voiced quietly, causing Harry to close his eyes in concern as she yet again tried to come to terms with what had happened. "When I opened that door, I didn't even think about the possibilities of what was about to happen."

Harry thought over this comment before remembering something Dimitri had said to him so many months ago in the aftermath of the attack; something they had as yet left unexplored. "Ruth," he said gently. "Why did you open the door that night?" he frowned as he remembered the night he had come to see if she was alright; the night on which their beautiful baby had been created – she had been hesitant to open the door; she had been careful. "Don't you usually check who is at the door before answering it? I'm sure you do-"

"I was expecting _you_." She mumbled quietly into his shirt, as if it was obvious. "It just seems those four men got there first."

Harry leant away from her in surprise, his brow furrowing properly this time, "What?" he asked confusedly. "Why were you expecting me?"

Even though she could not see him, Ruth automatically looked up in the direction of Harry's face, as if she could see his confusion through the darkness. "You said you were coming over." She replied, equally as confused as to why he would not remember this.

Harry thought deeply, trying to remember when he had said this. Surely he had not said that. They had argued that day on the grid, she had gone home and he had been contacted by Dimitri who told him to apologise. But he had not actually done it. "No I didn't." he frowned.

"You did," Ruth argued, now a little angry that he did not remember something as important as this. "You sent me a text message saying that you would be coming over and-"

"A text message?" Harry questioned her suddenly, now knowing full well he had not said this. And surely she knew him better than to think that he would send an informal little text message. "Ruth," he said as calmly as possible. "I never send text messages, and I certainly never sent you one that night. We argued in the day remember? We were both argued?"

"But…but you came." Ruth said confusedly. "That night…you came."

"Because you called me." Harry said as gently as possible. "You had just been…attacked and you were in pain so you called me."

"I thought you were already on your way?" Ruth said quietly, thoroughly confused by now.

"No." Harry finished. "No, I promise you Ruth that I did not send you a text message telling you that I was coming over."

"But it was from your number…" she said, automatically reaching down to her coat pocket, when she remembered that she must have been stripped of her coat and all possible escape routes, when she had been taken. Harry must have realised what she was doing because he said:

"They wouldn't be so stupid as to leave us with a phone would they?"

"No," she sighed. "No I suppose not." She looked up at his vague outline through the darkness. "But I swear I received a text message from your number."

"I believe you." Harry told her honestly. "But I can assure you that I didn't sent you one."

"Who else has access to your phone?"

"No one," Harry said firmly. "Only I use this phone – no one has access to it, even in an emergency."

Ruth continued to search for a way of explanation in her head when Harry continued, "It must have been your attackers," he told her gently. "They must have been able to hack into my phone."

"Can they do that?" Ruth asked fearfully.

"Not usually," He said honestly, rather afraid of the power these men had at their fingertips if they could complete such a task.

Ruth tried to rack her brains back to that night, forcing herself to overstep the memory of those four men, "Where were you at about…half past five that night."

Harry felt tempted to put the conversation to bed by just saying he could not remember but he could tell by Ruth's voice that it meant a lot to her so he sighed and thought hard. Had he been in his office at the time? Or perhaps he had been on his way home? And then it hit him. He knew exactly where he had been…

"Oh God." He whispered suddenly, with such horror that Ruth swallowed.

"What?" she asked fearfully. "What is it?"

"I…I was at the Gavriks' hotel that night, with Elena. We had an argument about it in the hospital." Ruth indeed could remember the argument; she remembered every shocking detail of those few days throughout and the aftermath of the rape.

Images flashed through Harry's mind as he tried to recall when exactly Ilya Gavrik had had access to his phone. He had not. He was sure of it. Ilya had left more or less as soon as he had arrived, being surprisingly trusting with him and Elena. Yet he had not thought of this at the time. Damn it, why had he not thought of this? And then he remembered where his phone had been. Dimitri had called him; he had answered sharply and unfriendly, and he had slammed his phone down onto the coffee table. After that, he could not remember seeing it until Ruth had called, and he vaguely remembered picking the device up from its place on the coffee table.

"No," he said suddenly, with such venom that Ruth was shocked. "No that's not possible."

"What?" she demanded.

He tried desperately to recall if the phone had been in the same place as when he had left it, but he honestly could not remember. He did not pick up details like this, especially when he had been in such a hurry to answer the phone, and then dash off to Ruth in a panic.

"It can't be…" he muttered.

"Harry, what is it? Ruth asked desperately.

"I left my phone on the table at the Gavrik's." he said, desperate for it not to be true.

"So Ilya had access to it?"

"No," Harry shook his head in frustration. "Ilya left…he wasn't there. And I was out of the room for some of the time…"

"What are you saying?" Ruth asked fearfully.

"The only person who had access to my phone…and good access at that…was-"

At that moment, they heard the distinct sound of the metal turning in the lock of the heavy door. They had been so wrapped up in their conversation that they had simply not heard the sound of footsteps clattering down the hall, and now Ruth visibly jumped, and Harry's grip around her tightened tremendously. There was no way Ruth was going with them…he was not going to let go of her. Ruth's hands slipped down onto her stomach and she clutched it protectively. Only a few seconds the later, the door swung slowly open. Yet instead of the doorway containing that large burly brutal man, it contained a slim, brittle shape. It was the shape of a woman, who had not been harmed or imprisoned in any way; in fact behind her stood two faceless men in the gloom, lighting her with two bright torches, which both Harry and Ruth had to recoil away from for a moment. When they looked back, both their mouths fell open as they took in who exactly was standing at the door. Harry's stomach lurched as his worst fear was confirmed. The woman's elegant smile twisted onto her aging face as she took in the two lovers huddled together on the stone cold floor.

"No…for God's sake no…" Harry whispered in utter horror, as he looked over the figure he had once known so well, before continuing bitterly. "The only person who had access to my phone that night…was Elena Gavrik."

**Some people have addressed the possibility of Elena being behind the whole thing, and particularly well done to Mtn Cousin who has maintained this view more or less through the entire story. I got there in the end ;) But is Elena really behind it all, or is she working for an accomplice? Also Richliga - in your previous review you were confused at how many months pregnant Ruth was - she said she was 8 months pregnant (sorry if that's not what I put). Also I liked your comment about this story being entitled '59 ways how to get into trouble' by Ruth Evershed. Hhmm...perhaps I should write this as a sequel... ;) Next up, we find out what exactly is going on, whether HR will escape, and whether they're all going to make it out alive. **


	36. Chapter 36

**Hiya! Sorry it's been a while, but so much has been happening, and it will continue to do so for quite a while, but I promise I will try to update whenever I can. I'm afraid to say that I can't even make up for it with an especially long chapter, but I decided that since its been nearly two weeks since my last update, then I'd better post what I'd done - just to let you know I'm still here ;) So it's a bit short, and probably a but uneventful, but I promise some juicy bits are up next. Please R&R! xx**

Harry and Ruth watched in horror as Elena Gavrik, complete and pristine as always, walked carefully across the grubby, darkened room and reached up towards the ceiling. As the torchlight from the guards' flashlights illuminated her, they caught sight of a small bulb-holder, which was currently empty. Elena was apparently remedying this as she produced a small light bulb from her smart jacket pocket and screwed it inside the holder. A guard, whom both Harry and Ruth now recognised as the American, Delloy, also moved to the inside of the room to flick the switch on. The room was suddenly lit far brighter than either of them had been used to for some time, and they both recoiled slightly away from the bulb's gaze. Harry only kept his eyes closed for a single second, before forcing them back open to look at Elena, who was still wearing that thin, triumphant smile on her face. It was a smile he had used to consider beautiful but as he stared at her now, and as realisation dawned on him as to how much she must have been involved with this whole plot, he did not think he had ever felt so sickened. As Elena and the two guards stared at them; the other one being the Russian, Anatoly, whom Calum had identified, Ruth stiffened under their gaze and felt her breathing increase ten-fold. Harry felt this and his grip on her was now so tight she could barely breathe, but it was the only thing reassuring her at the moment, so she dared not complain. Elena was still watching them with those beady dark eyes, and twisted smile, so Harry forced himself to study her properly for the very first time.

"Well Harry," she said eventually in that thick, but silky Russian accent. "Why don't you say something? I can tell you so desperately want to do so."

Harry took the time to contemplate his answer, for had he rushed into things, he may well have done something he'd regret, "What do you want me to say Elena?" he asked her quietly, but in that dangerous tone he reserved with people who were about to get themselves into deep trouble. "That I don't believe it? That the woman whom I fathered a child by has actually been up to her neck in this mess in the first place?" He tried to glare at her, but found to his horror that he was still unable to do so. "There are a great many things I would like to say Elena, but I don't think I have the courage or the willpower to voice them yet."

"You are so sweet Harry," Elena cooed, slowly approaching where they were huddled on the floor. "Always the same picture of horror and disappointment when you realise that someone you were naïve enough to trust and love, is actually someone you cannot trust at all."

Ruth looked between Harry and Elena for a few moment before gathering enough courage to actually speak in the presence of the two guards, "I…I don't understand." She whispered quietly and terrified to Harry. "How can it be Elena? She-"

"I covered my tracks quite well don't you think?" Elena interrupted, now getting so close that at her great height, Ruth could see that Elena Gavrik was actually someone quite threatening. "I'm afraid the precaution of myself getting kidnapped alongside you Ruth was the only way…otherwise your friends would have started to suspect."

"Oh I don't know about that Elena," Harry said sharply. "With all the hiding and acting you've been doing recently, you seem to be a better spy than I ever was. Perhaps Dimitri and Erin would not have suspected anything after all."

"I am not quite the damsel in distress you took me for, am I Harry?" Elena asked, a hint of bitterness in her voice; something he was entirely unused to hearing.

"Believe me," Harry said grimly. "I never mistook you for a damsel in distress. You were too good a spy for that." As her twisted smile widened even further, Harry realised something that made his stomach lurch with even greater force. "Except the betrayal doesn't stop at these last few months does it?" he caught on. "Were you even a genuine asset for the allies all those years ago in Berlin?"

Elena shrugged, "I passed on information, some of it true, and some of it lies; but mostly it was things I knew you'd believe and act on."

Harry stared at her as she spoke, completely unable to take in that this woman, whom he had cared for, even without contact, for thirty years was actually a traitor, a criminal, and possibly even a terrorist. How could he ever trust his judgment again, if Elena Gavrik, his best foreign ally and achievement, had actually been playing him along all this time? Ruth turned in his arms to survey Harry, and even though his gaze remained impassive, she could tell by his slightly watery eyes that he was deeply upset.

"How sweet you are Harry," she said again, also observing this tell-tale action with interest. Had they not been in this situation, Ruth would have quite readily believed that they were partaking in an ordinary conversation; by the way both Elena and Harry stared calmly at each other. "You thought I really loved you? That I cared about you? That we once shared something nobody else could take away?"

Ruth's own anger was slowly beginning to boil as she witnessed this horrific taunting of the man she loved. Harry said nothing in reply to Elena's comments but merely looked away, his jaw set firmly in hurt and anger.

"Come on Harry," Elena pondered slowly, still in that calm, rich accent. "The evidence is sitting in front of you that you do not waste any time with women." Her eyes landed on Ruth's large baby bump, and Harry closed his eyes to block out the disgusting image of Elena's twisted smile. "You were never satisfied with just one, and we both know that. Even in Berlin there were women other than me. You cannot tell me that you actually felt something for me?"

Again, Harry could not answer the question, and he found himself unable to even look at Ruth for fear of seeing a condemning look in her eyes.

"You and Ruth on the other hand," Elena sighed, her eyes straying over the younger woman, and Ruth did her best to glare back. "When I saw you again after all these years, I knew that something was different… you were different... You weren't the bold, confident young man I knew in Berlin, but a less self-assured, tired, aging man, who had devotion to only one woman… and I saw who that was the moment the two of you were together at the Reception."

Ruth stared at Harry again and began to grow anxious that he just was not looking her; in fact he seemed to be looking anywhere but at her.

"Did Harry ever tell you what happened in Berlin, Ruth?" Elena asked quietly, and Ruth knew it was time to defend Harry right at the time when he most needed that reassurance.

"Yes." She replied as confidently and as steadily as she could, with Delloy and Anatoly's eyes on her.

"But has he told you the truth?" Elena asked, her horrible smile twisting even more. "The attempting to get me to spy for the Allies, at a time when Ilya and I were happy? And when I refused, he made up a story about my parents death. They had both died a few years before, and he managed to forge evidence that proved they were murdered at the hands of my own country. And with that, he managed to distress me to the point that I was even suspicious of Ilya." Ruth's heart constricted as she listened to Elena's story, trying hard not to imagine this younger, darker version of Harry. Harry, for the first time in minutes, looked fearfully at Ruth whose expression contained that of silent horror, and he felt as if his gut had been twisted. No…he could not lose her now. He couldn't.

"But I was still loyal, and I stood by Ilya, even though he was now beginning to push me away. But then Harry resorted to the last weapon he had," she stared at him and smirked that nasty poisonous smirk, whilst Harry looked away from Ruth's gaze in shame. "And he… seduced me… to convince me to get information that he needed." She took in Ruth's slightly hurt gaze at Harry, and she asked again, "Did Harry tell you that?"

Ruth took a moment to consider Harry's expression of utter shame and humility, and she automatically knew what her answer had to be. Avoiding looking at either Delloy or Anatoly, she said quietly but defiantly to Elena, "No."

"He is not the man you took him to be?"

"No." Ruth replied, and Harry's jaw clenched even tighter as she realised he looked like he was about to cry. "He's a better man." Both Harry and Elena froze; in fact, the world might have stood still for a few seconds, as Harry tried to comprehend this incredible, understanding woman, and Elena tried to grasp that her snide comments had failed to divide the pair. "He's made mistakes, and… and I suppose I of all people should know he has…but… but after what you've just said… all I cans see is a man who gave more to the service, and learnt more from these mistakes than anybody could think possible."

It was all Harry could do not to seize her and kiss her right there and then, but obviously he knew that in this current situation and after everything she had been through, that would not be appropriate.

"And besides," Ruth continued astutely, her gaze still fixed on Elena's beady eyes. "It seems you weren't the victim after all. I'm prepared to bet that all of what you have just said is a very well- rehearsed legend that you've come to memorise over all these years."

"What do you mean?" Elena asked, her eyes narrowed.

"What she means Elena," Harry finally spoke up. "Is that in all likelihood you were setting me up from the beginning, or at least as soon as I started showing an interest in you. Are we right?"

Elena stared at the pair of them, her expression now crossed between a glare and a smirk, which was a rather ugly combination. "You are right." She replied calmly.

"Who was it you were working for then?" Harry demanded, having regained control of himself thanks to Ruth's sudden act of bravery. He was now holding her tighter than ever, trying to let her know how grateful he was through his gentle touch. "Ilya? KGB?"

"What makes you think I was working for someone Harry?" Elena asked in apparent curiosity,

"You're clever Elena," Harry growled, his spook face now firmly in place. "But you're really not that clever." This blatant insult seemed to have the desired effect on Elena whose smirk slowly slid off her face in annoyance.

"You will find out in due course who I work for," she said in a clipped tone, creating a strange sense of satisfaction within Harry, with the knowledge that he had successfully rattled her.

What about Sasha?" Ruth asked suddenly, both Elena and Harry turning to look at her. Almost as soon as he had done so, Harry whirled his head back around to stare at Elena, whose look of triumph had been restored.

"What _about_ Sasha?" She asked, though it was clear enough who Ruth was asking about.

"No more games Elena," Harry said dangerously quietly. "You tell me… is Sasha actually my son or is that another lie as well?"

Elena looked between the two of them for a moment before saying, "Sasha _is_ your son."

Harry tried to think how this made him feel, but was surprised to find that he felt neither joy nor remorse at this. Ruth however, he noticed, had begun to breathe very quickly and shallowly again, as if in great panic. He could not understand what was wrong, and he brought her round to face him properly: "Ruth?"

"She has not told you yet?" Elena asked silkily. "Well… I suppose not… there has not been time."

"What?" Harry asked quietly, for the first time in his life, completely neglecting Elena and turning his full attention to the woman in front of him. "Told me what?" he asked Ruth gently.

Ruth swallowed and shook her head, still hardly able to comprehend this herself, let alone be able to convey this truth to Harry. Harry was trying not to push her, especially in front of the other two men whose faces also contained horrible smirks, as they watched her struggle with the information.

"What?" he asked again, a little more urgently, but still with the same amount of tenderness in his voice.

"Ruth and her friends discovered information about her attackers." Elena said helpfully, placing one elegant hand on her hip. "And she finally realised that Sasha was one of them."

Harry felt as if he had been punched in the stomach, for he had most certainly stopped breathing, and his heart seemed to have just broken. "No." he swallowed uncertainly, turning his head to look at Ruth. From the way she steadfastly avoided his eyes he could tell that what he was hearing was in fact the truth. But how could it possibly be the truth? No son of his would ever perform such a horrific act as rape, and more specifically, how could his own flesh and blood find it within their ability to harm Ruth. Sasha, the boy, he was fifty per cent himself and fifty per cent Elena, and yet, he was so unlike Harry himself it was untrue. And then it properly hit him – his own son, a part of him had… interfered with Ruth. The truth was so awful that Harry felt most unclean, almost as if it had been he who had attacked Ruth. All of a sudden, Ruth felt Harry's arms unwrap from around her slightly, and attempt to pull away. She looked up at him, startled at this gesture and saw that his expression was a mixture of mingled disgust and horror.

"Sasha, our son, was one of the ones who-" Elena was confirming, almost smugly, although her expression was still straight and silky. Ruth wondered how on earth she found the nerve to stand there and talk about such matters, as if they were an everyday occurrence. Elena's ruthlessness shocked her quite a lot, as although she had not exactly liked the older woman due to her past with Harry, she had considered her relatively harmless. Now, not only was she quite convinced that she really rather hated Elena, but she was also starting to realise that this seemingly fragile Russian housewife was a great deal more harmful than either of them had originally anticipated.

"Sasha is no son of mine!" Harry suddenly snapped, making Ruth jump from the unexpected outburst and display of emotion, and causing Elena to raise an eyebrow. "No son of mine would condone rape, let alone practice it."

"I am sorry Harry," Elena said quietly, even though she was quite plainly anything but. Ruth was beginning to wonder whether this was just another lie to get Harry riled up. "But he _is _your son."

"He's more Ilya's son than mine!" Harry yelled, breathing exceptionally heavily, just as he always did when he found himself unable to control his anger levels. "Didn't your precious husband condone rape and terror all those years ago in Berlin? I wouldn't be at all surprised if it was him you are working for!" Elena's eyebrows, if it was possible, seemed to rise even higher. Ruth took this as a sign that he was ruffling her feathers, and she could not help but feel pleased at this. "As you are so fond of reminding me Elena – I left you in Berlin. I haven't seen either you or that boy in nearly thirty years. I couldn't possibly know him, and he couldn't possibly know me. Anything he regards as right or wrong is based on your principles, and on that note, I have to say I am quite sorry for him."

"I-" Elena began, a little frostily, although she was trying her best to amend her poker face, but Harry continued before she was even given the chance to speak.

"And I also feel sorry for _you _Elena!" he snapped.

Elena hesitated before asking with dignity, "Why should you feel sorry for _me_?"

Harry gazed at her coldly –something he never thought he would do towards her in his entire life, "You've become so dark and twisted that any principles you had before marrying Ilya have gone. Because no matter what you insist, I believe that you were a good person before you met him, and I think I genuinely saw that side of you all those years ago – albeit if only for short amount of time." Elena's expression had frozen, and was staring at Harry with a most odd expression on her face. Ruth tried to make out whether it was confusion or, dare she say it, vulnerability. Could Harry possibly be right? "But since you chose to take that man's side, you've allowed yourself to… become this." He said gesturing towards her in disgust. "A woman who seems pleased at the fact that her own son feels it is perfectly adequate to go around raping innocent women in their own homes."

Elena stared at Harry for a few more moments; moments in which Ruth genuinely thought Harry had cracked this woman – that he was possibly going to break her. But then they both witnessed that horrible smug smile slide up over her features again, no sparkle of kindness in those eagle eyes, as she said:

"Oh Harry," she sighed. "Perhaps you are right." At Harry's questioning look she elaborated. "Perhaps I am a better spy than you after all… you do not think I would fall for simple breaking techniques like those do you?"

Harry looked away, as this had apparently been his intention. Ruth was still feeling slightly anxious without his arms tight and protective around her, but she tried to maintain a dignified expression in front of the sneering faces of the two burly bodyguards.

"How could you do it Elena?" Harry asked quietly, as if all the fight had evaporated from him. "How could you? And why? What has been the point of all of this?"

Elena regarded Harry with suspicion for a moment before answering shortly, "The partnership. It is against the wishes of the people I work for."

"And is it against your wishes?" Harry probed, desperate now to get to the more humane side of this seemingly inhumane, bitter woman.

"It is against the wishes of the people I work for; therefore it is against my wishes." She answered enigmatically.

"But why forge those notes from me?" Harry demanded. "Just so I wouldn't suspect? And if that's the case, why didn't you want me to suspect if this is what you had in mind all along." He finished, gesturing around the darkened room, and its grimy floor.

"It was… necessary." Elena replied unhelpfully.

"Was it necessary to attack Ruth?" he demanded, getting increasingly angry at her stubbornness to answer his questions. If they were going to die here, they at least had the right to know why. "Was it necessary to hurt her like that?" When Elena still did not deign to reply he yelled. "What was that for Elena? Was that purely to follow orders or was it partly a personal agenda? After everything you've just said, were you possibly angry that I had left you behind? Was there a small part of you… a small _humane_ part of you that just wanted to get out of a loveless marriage with your child?" Elena's eyes were widening all the time he spoke, her mouth parted slightly, as if she wanted to reply with dignity but could not quite manage it. "Did you help organise that attack because of that Elena? Because I know you did… _you _sent the text to Ruth so that when she answered that door, she expected it to be me – not four violent men all intent on getting their pound of flesh!"

Ruth closed her eyes at the coarse fury and brashness in Harry's voice, now rather glad that he had let her go. She did not think she could bear him to talk about the attack for much longer.

"In that case Elena," Harry continued, not noticing Ruth's expression. "Ruth is completely innocent. Because when we had our affair, and at that time, she was still had school. She hadn't even done her O-Levels!"

Harry had thought it was a long shot asking these questions, but something within him told him that he was getting to Elena. Her expression now showed genuine surprise, and he was sure that this time, she was not acting. He was about to persist onwards, when a sudden noise came from beyond the doorway, as footsteps echoed along the cold stone floor towards them. The whole room went silent, Elena still staring unwaveringly at Harry, whilst he, regardless of what he had just found out, resumed his hold on Ruth, who had begun to tremble slightly. She found his hand in the moderate darkness and squeezed it as if to ask that he would stay with her. Harry, who would have it no other way, squeezed it back, and kept holding it tightly until the face of the approaching figure finally came into view.

**Even though not very much happened, I do hope you liked that. It's really hard with a plot as intricate as this to remember to put eveything in. It's especially difficult when you have to write two or three chapters of exposition. Hhmm... now I know how Agatha Christie felt when she had to write nearly ten pages of exposition, with Miss Marple having to explain how the mystery all fit together. I'll try to update as soon as possible, but as I said, I hoped that was satisfactory. Please let me know what you think :) xxx**


	37. Chapter 37

**Sorry for the gap between updates - what can I say - normal life _again_. Hopefully this chapter will make up for it as we discover if they will escape or not. Thank you very much for all your wonderful reviews, and I hope you like this one enough to review! xx**

"Well well well," Harry said coldly as he regarded the figure in front of them, turning his glare onto Elena again. "Ilya, what a surprise that you're the one behind all this."

Ilya also turned to look at his wife, and for an instant he seemed somewhat disconcerted that she looked slightly vulnerable, however a moment later, Harry was sure he had imagined it because a similar smug expression to his wife's had appeared.

"I am afraid I cannot take all of the credit Harry." Ilya responded in an equally cold, yet falsely friendly voice. "There are… others."

"Oh I can't wait to find out who." Harry replied sarcastically, all the while keeping a tight hold over Ruth, who had tensed at Ilya's appearance.

"Then do not worry," Ilya said, continuing the falsely polite, yet completely pointless conversation. "Because in a short while you will find out."

"I'll look forward to it then." Harry answered, his eyes now fixed on Ilya's, with both women looking between the men. Had they been wolves they might have been circling each other now, estimating when the right time would be to go in for the kill. When the silence in the room went on for some long minutes following this, Harry decided there was no time like the present to move things along.

"So Ilya," he said calmly, despite his fear for the woman he loved and their child. "As your wife is being so unhelpful… what exactly do you want us here for? I'm assuming you didn't take the trouble of abducting us in front of the Government's very noses simply for a teddy bear's picnic?"

"I am amused that you are using your typical British technique." Ilya said smugly, moving to place his arm around his wife. Her expression incidentally had somewhat relaxed since her husband arrived to restore her confidence. "You, like so many in your country, seem to think that a common question and answer session before you die is your right. Yet only in your Agatha Christie's and your Colin Dexter's is this true."

"You intend to kill us then?" Harry asked with apparent curiosity, yet inwardly his heart had clenched. He could not and he would not let anything happen to Ruth or that baby, regardless of Ilya Gavrik's intentions.

"Oh yes." Ilya replied equally calmly. "I see it as fit. You and your Ms Evershed have been a hindrance for too long."

"Then why not just do it?" Harry asked. "Or is the fear and anticipation of being killed supposed to rot us from the inside first?"

"It is a clever plan no?" Ilya replied, smiling.

"No," Harry replied honestly, trying his hardest not to let Ilya know that he was getting to him. "Just in humane. But then again, I suppose a leopard never changes his spots."

"How do you mean?"

"You were a monster all those years ago, and you're a monster now. Only I didn't think terrorism was up your street."

"Terrorism?" Ilya questioned. "Who said anything about terrorism?"

"You have been going against the wishes of the British Government, trying to prevent a partnership that could potentially right the rivalry between Britain and Russia – a rivalry that is still very current even after the Cold War supposedly ended."

Ilya raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Elena had begun to glare at Harry; something he had rarely seen before, and it consequently made her again features appear really rather ugly.

"That Ilya is terrorism. And that act of terrorism, I can only guess is the master plan of a very bent, very underground, and a highly illegal sector of the KGB. Am I right?" For a few moments Harry's eyes bore into Ilya's and there was a connection of mutual dislike between both men.

Eventually, Ilya gave in to Harry's question and he nodded curtly, an odd smile sliding over his face. "You are right Harry Pearce."

"And if your country's Government got wind of what you were up to, you would probably be incarcerated for a very long time, as would your wife. So what could possibly be worth your freedom, possibly even your lives?" Harry tried to read Ilya, who still was not saying a word. "Because I know it's not money – you're far too rich and far too ignorant to want something as simple as that. You can't possibly want fuels or oil, because again, that eventually boils down to money again. So what is to be gained by postponing this partnership?" He analysed Ilya's features for a few seconds longer before a small smile slid across his face. "Ah," he said slowly. "Of course… even in the seventies you were a power freak. Anything that puts you in a place of power." He registered that from Ilya's slightly taken aback face that he was one hundred per cent correct in his assumptions. "Haven't you noticed that eventually people who dig for power usually wind up dead? The name Adolf Hitler springs to mind-"

Ilya cleared his throat and finally spoke, however this time his voice was no longer light and playful, but it came from a man who had had quite enough jibes poked at him. "Adolf Hitler is a very obvious and common name; I would have thought a man of your intellectual ability could have come up with something more original. Anyway," he continued. "You are playing for time."

It was Harry's turn to revert to silence, for this had indeed, in part, been his plan.

"If it would make you happier to know, I will of course oblige." Ilya said coldly. "We have postponed this foolish partnership enough in order to put our plans into action. Yourself and Ms Evershed have been, and shall be useful scapegoats before you die. Your career has already been entirely discredited, and in attacking your precious Ms Evershed, we were rather hoping your involvement with her would finish your future with MI5 off. The fact that she is carrying your child is only a bonus to our wishes."

"You bastard." Harry growled in utter disgust, tightening his grip on Ruth even further. "You would harm her and her child simply because it is convenient. You would kill an innocent child?"

"Of course I would Harry," Ilya shrugged. "We did it all the time back in the day. Do not tell me you have never killed a child because it is convenient."

Harry glared at Ilya, "I have never ordered the killing of a child, and never have I done it personally. I have authorised the deaths of children if it is the only solution to an international crisis, but not because it is convenient."

"It is the same thing." Ilya shrugged contentiously.

"That depends on whether you have an ounce of humanity or not." Harry snapped back.

Ilya smirked before continuing, "In time, as Ms Evershed's emotional condition grew worse, and your reputation poorer, we could mould you into the perfect culprits."

"The perfect culprits for what?" Harry demanded, his eyes narrowing.

"Why the Russian plane that is going to blow up over central London in precisely three days at 12 noon of course." Ilya replied, in a tone as if it was obvious. The smugness there was sickening.

"You can't do that." Harry snapped immediately. "It would kill hundreds of innocent people, not least the ones on the plane."

"How sentimental you are with life loss Harry," Ilya sighed.

"You would kill people from your own country?"

"No," Ilya smiled nastily. "You would. After all, it will be you who blows up the plane."

There was a pause of horror from Harry before he growled. "No… absolutely not."

"I'm afraid you will not have a choice." Ilya replied silkily.

"You have no motive." Harry replied. "What possible motive have I got to kill a plane of innocent Russians?"

"They are not Russian Harry," Ilya replied smoothly. "They are American delegates, and members of the CIA, on their return to conferences and bases in England, from Russia."

"What motive would I have to murder innocent Americans?" Harry demanded, finding this even more lucrative. "The Americans are our allies… there is even less likelihood that I would murder them."

"Because Jim Coaver, a rogue CIA agent, and his accomplice Joseph Willard raped and eventually killed the woman you love. You see, Ms Evershed is so distraught about what has happened that she will take her own life. You, in a fit of rage, and in a crime of passion, shall take rage against the CIA members on that plane. When you escape from custody and hear that your beloved Ms Evershed has taken her own life, you shall have boarded that plane, carrying a suicide bomb that will not only blow up yourself and the other occupants of the plane, but also create destruction in the city below."

Harry and Ruth listened to this plan in utter horror, and Ruth felt herself begin to panic. She clutched her stomach desperately, whilst Harry held her to him, feeling her confidence begin to deteriorate. They could not at any point show that they were afraid.

"You utter bastard." Harry managed to growl out.

Ilya however continued to speak, "With that done, I am so horrified at this act of terrorism on a Russian plane, the hostesses and pilots of course being from my own country, that I refuse to sign the partnership, and declare a degree of… unfriendliness with your country."

"You can't do that." Ruth spoke up suddenly, so that all heads turned to face her. "You can't… hundreds will due… chaos will resume between the two countries… there could be another conflict between Britain and Russia… it could cause untold damage."

"I am afraid Ruth," Ilya replied, bending slightly to talk to her as if she was a young child. "That I can and will do that." Ruth swallowed, but did her best not to show any outward signs of fear. As Ilya drew back up again, he said, "Of course, I know that I could never get either of you to do those things. So, my appointer has arranged for a suicide bomber to board the plane himself – with the amount of explosive we are using, none of the bodies shall ever be found anyway, so its shall be taken for granted that you were on board. You yourself shall be shot and disposed of in a way that you will never be found – I am thinking at the bottom of the Thames. Ms Evershed shall be shot and eventually found but not before my friends here have… had their fun." He gestured towards the two guards who were now smiling, quite demonically, at the thought of the pleasure they would have.

Ruth however, could no longer hold off her fear, and she let the tears begin to dribble down her cheeks. Within a few seconds she had started to whimper, albeit very quietly, but due to the silence in the room, all heard it clearly. Harry could only stand to watch Ilya's smug face for a moment longer before he turned away and pressed Ruth as tightly as was humanly possible to him, glaring lividly at the wall opposite.

"Neither you nor any of your men are even going to touch her Ilya!" He yelled.

"There is nothing you can do to stop it," Ilya responded reasonably.

Harry knew this was perfectly true, but he would not let this show, especially for Ruth's sake. She was now looking positively frantic at suffering in that horrific way again, and he knew that it would not take even a few seconds for them to break her. Regardless of what she had been insisted of late, she was still in the stages of recovery and was mentally and emotionally extremely fragile. "I'll find a way to stop it Ilya, don't you worry."

"My men are all armed, as am I," Ilya said practically. "If you try anything, you will simply be shot, and what use would you be to your precious Ms Evershed then?"

"No!" Ruth suddenly said loudly, wide-eyed and horrified at the prospect of them killing Harry. "No, he won't do anything. He won't. I'll… I'll let them…"

"No!" Harry growled firmly both to her and to Gavrik. "You are not going to-"

"Yes I am." Ruth replied, wiping her tears away, saying it as steadily as she possibly could. She placed a placating hand on his chest "Harry, you can't let yourself be killed for me."

"Yes I can."

"I won't let you."

"This is very touching no?" Ilya said amusedly to Elena, who said nothing but let out a tight-lipped smile. To anyone who hadn't known her better, they might have thought she looked a little disconcerted with the extremes to which Ilya was planning to go. He looked back towards the couple huddled on the floor, looking extremely satisfied with himself, "I suppose I shall allow you two to… say goodbye if it were…"

"For Christ's sake, she's pregnant!" Harry bellowed, looking towards Ruth's very large stomach. "She's almost full term. What sort of sick person are you?"

Ilya smiled a sickening smile; one that caused both fury and fear to boil up in the pit of Harry's stomach. "One that usually gets their own way. And one who usually gets exactly what they want… one way or another."

With that, he turned on his heel, escorting Elena out of the room with his strong arms, whilst the two guards flashed smirks at them before turning out of the door. "Do not worry about getting lonely. We'll be back momentarily." Ilya said in a chillingly calm voice.

A few seconds later, the room had been emptied leaving only Harry and Ruth still clinging to each other for dear life. Thankfully, the light bulb had been left in; the only humane aspect of all they had so far done, and all that they were about to do. As the heavy door echoed shut behind them, and double locked, Ruth buried her head in Harry's shoulder and within seconds had begun to shake. He knew that this was the result of silent sobs that were currently being issued into his cotton shirt, yet he knew he could provide no real comfort for her. The only way he could possibly may everything better, was to find a way out, and that, even with the dim light from the bulb, looked virtually impossible.

"Ruth," he said softly but firmly into her ear. "We'll find a way. They… they aren't going to do that to you again, I promise you that."

"Harry," she sniffed back, her voice muffled into his shirt. "I'm an analyst… and a bloody good one at that. And I can tell from this room and from this situation that the probability of us getting out alive and unharmed are about a million to one."

"I've been in worse situations that this and survived." He told her honestly.

"Yes," she said quietly, moving her face slightly so that she was side-on to his chest. "But you weren't lumbered with a heavily pregnant woman before. I mean it Harry; I'm going to hold you back. But if you can find a way out, get yourself out."

"Never." He replied with such fierceness it made her jump.

"Harry…" she began to plead tearfully.

"I mean it," he said strongly. "We all get through this together, or not at all."

"That's ridiculous!" She cried.

"This whole situation is ridiculous Ruth," Harry said, cursing himself inwardly as his voice cracked with emotion. "Me getting blamed for a terror attack after thirty years of service to this country, you… killing yourself due to depression."

"That's not unbelievable Harry," Ruth said quietly, tears continuing to dribble down her cheeks and onto her protruding stomach. The silence hung in the air as they both recalled the incident on the roof.

"He's a monster." Harry whispered eventually. "He's a bloody monster."

He allowed his hands to drift to her baby bump, and asking permission with his eyes, to which she consented, he stroked the forming child insider her. He fought hard to keep control of his own tears as he thought of the possibility of slaughtering this innocent woman and child. Ruth watched him for a moment before being forced to look away.

"What sort of mother am I Harry?" she asked with such sorrow in her voice that his heart broke. "What sort of a mother would put her child through a hellish life like this? I… I should have aborted it when I first found out… at least then it wouldn't have been able to feel any pain."

Harry gazed at this poor woman, aghast, "Ruth, you don't mean that… I know you don't. You love this baby."

"Is love enough Harry?" she demanded, suddenly hysterical. "Is loving it the decision to keep it… to give it a chance in this God-forsaken world, or is loving it giving it up to rid it of excruciating pain."

"Stop it!" Harry growled harshly at her, shaking her slightly to try and get her to halt these morbid thoughts. He had never heard her feel sorry for herself to this degree, and he had never taken Ruth as a woman who would ever kill another human being out of love. "You've given it the best chance of life Ruth," he said, moving his hands up to her face to force her to look into his eyes. "Look at me!" he said forcefully. It took a few seconds until she eventually complied with this order, and only then did he see the agony in her eyes. She genuinely thought that all of this was her fault. "You are a beautiful mother Ruth. You gave it the best chance, and you have loved it and nurtured it, and you will continue to do so, because I promise you that nobody – not the baby, not you, nor me are going to die."

"I shouldn't have let myself get so attached." She whispered tearfully.

"Yes you should." Harry told her firmly. "Come on Ruth, stop this. You're Ruth Evershed, the strongest, most reliable person on the grid. You don't feel sorry for yourself and you don't let their threats get to you."

"But-"

"You've escaped death from a highly trained French assassin, a mad man with a crossbow, a money-mad kidnapper, and an Indian terrorist." As he uttered these words, he noticed her calm somewhat as she recalled all of these times. "You've survived all of those times, and you'll survive again."

Although her breathing was still extremely heavy and panicky, Harry was relieved to note that she was no longer crying. So they settled into a gentle silence whilst he cuddled her lovingly, and whispered words of occasional comfort. Eventually she broke the silence with something quite unexpected:

"I like Zacharias for a boy."

He stared at her in complete astonishment for a moment before smiling slightly, "Ruth, do you want our child to be bullied senseless at school?"

"What's wrong with Zacharias?" she asked, trying very hard to keep up the banter.

"Zacharias Evershed?" Harry exclaimed aloud. "He'd never live it down."

"Well it wouldn't be Zacharias Evershed, it'd be Zacharias Pearce." She said before she could stop herself. In that moment, he could see that she had given this much more thought than he had ever realised. Yet he must have stared at her for a long while in shock because she hurriedly said, "I mean… no… no… Evershed's wonderful. I just… I…"

Harry quickly took her hands in his, and squeezed it tightly before moving in to kiss her senseless. Despite her fears, she blushed at his forthrightness, and smiled slightly. "I… I would be honoured if our child had my last name." he said honestly. They stared at each other for a moment longer, lost in their trance of love, before Harry broke it spectacularly by saying, "But it's still not going to be Zacharias."

"Zachary?" Ruth probed.

"No."

"Zach?"

"What is it with you and this Zach-ish name?" he asked amusedly.

"It was just one of the ones I had on my list." She shrugged, looking a little happier, despite their situation.

"Oh yes?" he asked quietly, but loving this woman so much more completely with each minute. "What other names did you have on your list?"

Ruth hesitated before answering, "For a boy, I was thinking of Adam or Daniel." Harry's heart almost overflowed with adoration for her as he realised the significance of those two names; the forenames of lost friends and colleagues, both of which had risked all the save them both at some point in their dramatically shortened lives. Brave, cheeky, reckless Adam who had given up his own right to live to save all those people on Remembrance Day, and sweet, young Danny who had at one point been the only one to notice Ruth's absence; an act which in the eventuality had saved her life. They owed them both so much, so he could see why she considered these names appropriate.

"They're both wonderful names." Harry agreed, squeezing her hand gently. "Any more for a boy?"

Ruth smiled slightly as a small ray of hope began to fill her sights again. Just thinking about names for their child, whatever the gender seemed to make the possibility of their survival all the more real. "I… I also had Sam… um… Samuel… and James."

Harry could not help but let his smile widen as Ruth uttered the name of his now deceased brother; they had had some fun times, he and James, before his younger brother died of pneumonia when Harry had gone to university. Yet he also knew that that was the name of Ruth's father, a good man, and a knowledgeable man from what he remembered of the files he read – he was obviously where Ruth got her brains from. He nodded, "I especially like James." He said softly, as they both administered their mutual connection.

As Harry remembered the times of playing spies in the street with his little brother at eight years old, Ruth remembered a similar age at which she had been given her first Dickens novel – David Copperfield. She had loved that book, and it was a book she often found solace in after her father's death, especially when she began to feel a stranger in her own home with Peter and her stepfather moving in.

"How about girl's names?" Harry probed, squeezing her hand once again, keen to stop her mind from drifting off to unpleasant thoughts. Now was the time to relax her; to her strengthen her before whatever was to come.

Ruth closed her eyes briefly as she tried to remember all those that she had considered, "I thought that Sophie was a lovely name… as was Anne… or lengthened at that… Annabelle."

Harry smiled again as she mentioned Annabelle, "Did you know that Annabelle was my Grandmother's name?" he asked conversationally.

She looked quite surprised before shaking her head, and moving to snuggle back into Harry's embrace, her head resting lightly on his shoulder. "I just thought… well… because of its meaning."

"What _does_ it mean?" Harry asked curiously, wondering how this wonderful woman knew so much about everything; even the origins of forenames, which was a topic he was certainly at a dead loss at. It was ironic he thought, that in this life and death crisis, with no current possible way out, they were sitting in a dirty, dark hovel discussing names for their unborn child.

"It means loveable and graceful." Ruth was replying confidently. She was always so very confident and strong when it came to relaying information, for knowledge and using her brain had never been a problem for her. Yet when it came to her emotions, she always seemed to find it either extremely hard to keep them in check, or extremely hard to reveal them.

Harry smiled, "Yes," he nodded, recalling his own exceptionally kind grandmother. In the days where family rallied round each other at every opportunity, and more or less every day, he remembered when she used to bake a different cake each day of the week. Thus, he and his brother James were overjoyed when she knocked on the door at the same time of 2 o'clock each day with a scrumptious smelling carrot, or chocolate or Victoria sponge cake. "Loveable suits the name Annabelle."

Ruth swallowed, "There was one which I thought may be particularly apt to us; especially if we… if we get out of this mess." She said it as bravely as she could but Harry could tell her thoughts were staring to dwell over their fate again, and so he lifted her chin slightly to force her to look into his eyes.

"What's that?"

"Charlotte." She replied after some hesitation. "Not only is it the name of so many wonderful characters in so many beautiful stories, but it… it also means 'free person'."

Harry stared at her and pondered this, "Free person." He smiled, realising how truly perfect it was for a child of an MI5 officer; a child who despite all the unbeatable odds of the world, was going to survive, and live a free, happy life, unhindered by death and destruction. That much he would make sure of. "It's perfect Ruth." He nodded. "If it's a girl, that name would be perfect."

"And… and a boy?"

"Any of the names you have thought of – except Zach… for God's sake, no Zach." He smiled.

"I quite like it." She said, giving a small smile – a smile which filled his heart with adoration. She suddenly looked a little unsure of herself, "Do you mind what… what it is… I mean… if it's a boy or… girl?"

"Not one little bit." He replied honestly and with such certainly, a small blush rose up in her cheeks. "It's our baby… you've had the courage to carry it for these long months... and it's a part of you Ruth… it'll be beautiful whether it's a boy or girl."

Ruth really had to look down and avoid his eyes at that moment; even now, he mused, she found it difficult to take compliments. She opened her mouth to say something but suddenly her eyes widened and she completely froze in Harry's arms. They both knew why, as the distinct sound of footsteps echoed down the stone corridor outside; footsteps which were growing ever closer to the door. Harry could tell by the heavy weight of the steps that they were neither Ilya nor Elena Gavrik, both of whom seemed to simper and slide everywhere as if they were of a much higher status than anybody; therefore he guessed it must be one of the guards. Judging from the slight panting breath of him, Harry was prepared to bet that it would be the burly, yet slightly overweight American – the bastard who had brought him here in the first place. Fear slid its cold fingers over his heart and gripped tightly as he realised what the reason must be for sending only one guard. The Gavriks' would never do anything so disgusting as to watch a women being raped, so they had sent one of their block-headed underlings instead. In a split second, he made a decision. He had felt Ruth tense in fright the moment the footsteps came within earshot, and knowing he would never just let anyone attack her, he got quickly to his feet. However, Ruth did not seem to translate the message from her brain to her legs, and was still staring at the door in wide-eyed fear; the comfort that suggesting baby names had given had apparently long since gone.

"Ruth." He whispered desperately in her ear, knowing that his plan certainly would not work if the guard heard them from outside. His footsteps were growing ever closer, and Harry knew they wouldn't have much time. "Come on, you've got to get up."

Ruth seemed barely able to find her voice before she whispered in a strangled tone, "I… I can't."

Harry was now breathing heavily as he tried to keep a lid over his emotions. He could shout at her to move, but what good would that do. So instead, he slipped his hands under her armpits and pulled her to her feet. She was almost limp from fear in his arms, and so he manoeuvred her with difficulty over to the side of the door, so that she stood directly behind it.

"Harry." She whispered fearfully, as he moved slightly away from her, his arms raised and poised for the attack. "No don't… you can't… you'll get shot… please…"

As the footsteps approached mere inches from them, Harry quickly hurried over to the light bulb and reached up to unscrew it. It was by this time extremely hot to the touch, but Harry was past caring; he did not even notice if he received a burn or not. Seconds later, they were left in darkness and Harry directed himself back over to the door, now quite thankful of Ruth's rather panicky heavy breathing, as it acted as a target in which to bring himself to. Seconds following that, they both heard the metal key in the lock, and Harry repositioned himself. He had been a desk officer for years, but in this dire situation, he was absolutely sure he would be able to knock a man out, if not kill him (which would not be an entirely bad thing at all) with his bare hands. As the door swung open, Harry heard Ruth's breath catch as she fought to remain silent, and he found herself inspired by her ingenuity. It was indeed the burly guard, for Harry recognised his burly figure even in the blackness; the American had stopped dead, uttering only a short expletive before listening intently for any sounds of movement. He was well-trained, Harry could admit to that, but then again, Ilya Gavrik would not exactly hire numskulls would he?

Harry approached the younger man as silently as was humanly possible, and was extremely thankful that he was not heard. He was almost directly behind him when his luck changed. Ruth let out a sudden gasp from behind them both, causing the guard to whirl around in glee, and he careered towards where Ruth stood. Harry, who apparently not been noticed at all, charged after him.

"Come here precious." The guard sniggered nastily, and even in the darkness, Harry knew that the bastard was mere inches away from Ruth. He could not let this happen; he would not. Ruth's cry of terror told him that the guard had finally seized hold of her. Without a pause for thought, Harry seized the burly man by the throat and with all the energy he could muster, pushed him so that he went careering across the room. Unfortunately, this only served to make the man angrier, and Harry knew that a fight in the darkness was not going to be easy.

Both men listened carefully to each other's footsteps and pants, trying to angle when they could go in for the attack. No longer interested in Ruth, the guard picked his moment and flung himself at Harry's blackened outline. Harry however had had enough. He raised his hands in front of himself protectively and as the American approached, he seized this throat and squeezed extremely tightly. Every ounce of energy and feeling went into that squeeze, as he thought of Ruth lying bleeding on her kitchen floor, Ruth almost killing herself on the roof, Tariq lying cold and dead on a mortuary slab. He momentarily felt the guard's clammy hands on his own as he gasped and choked in the struggle to set himself free. It was to no prevail however, and Harry was extremely satisfied when the man went completely limp in his hands, before choking out one last piteous breath and falling heavily to the stone ground.

For a moment there was complete silence. One might have thought the room was empty until Ruth suddenly whimpered, "H… Harry?"

Harry stared at the dark outline of the dead man at his feet, unable to form words for a moment.

"H... Harry… please… please don't be d-" she began to sob.

"I'm alright Ruth." He said softly, returning to his senses. "I'm alright."

He heard her let out an enormous sob of relief, and rummaging in the guard's pocket, he found the heavy metal key before using Ruth's sob to direct himself towards her. She was no longer standing but huddled against the wall, most probably to where she had retreated after the guard had grabbed her. Harry found her form and embraced her tightly. "It's alright… I'm fine and your fine."

"I thought… I thought…" Ruth gulped, unable to articulate herself properly.

"I'm fine." He repeated gently, pulling her up once again. "Come on," he said, tugging her hand to escort her through the now open door. "We've got to get out of here."

"What… what happened to… him?" Ruth asked fearfully.

"He's… he's not going to be coming after us." Harry finished, although they both knew what this implied. Ruth had frozen for a minute, before nodding.

"Okay." She seemed to have accepted that this was now a kill them to live situation.

"Come on." Harry said again, pulling her out of the room. He turned and locked the metal door behind them, just for a precaution, before grabbing her hands and hurrying as fast as they could up the darkened corridor.

**I apologise if it got a little horrific at times, but I thought I might include a little of the brutality they seem to have sometimes in Spooks, especially with Harry's ability to kill people who have done him an injustice. Up next is we find out who else is behind this mess, and I think one of them may surprise you! Please review to let me know what you think. xx**


	38. Chapter 38

**Again, sorry for the lack of update, but I'm updating whenever I can, I promise you that. Thank you so much for all the fantastic reviews. I hope you like this little addition... and the shock revelation as to who else is behind the plot. Please review xxx**

"So, let me get this straight." Calum muttered, trying to comprehend the vast load of information Dimitri and Erin had just fed him. "Not only did you manage to get Ruth taken by most likely, the same bastards who attacked her, but you also sat back and watched as the Russian ambassador's wife was taken."

"We didn't sit back and watch Calum." Erin snapped irritably. "We did all we could."

"Did you get a number plate?" Calum quizzed.

Erin swallowed and looked across at Dimitri, before sighing, "No."

"Did you manage to shoot out the escape van enough so that we might be able to identify it if it breaks down within a few miles radius of where it was last seen?"

"No." Erin growled.

"Did you fit Ruth with a tracker, or any form of communication to the grid?"

"For the last time Cal, no, we didn't." Erin snapped. "We were with her. We thought that'd be enough. They must have either been watching us, or known about the meeting the whole time."

"Yeah, but who's they?" Calum asked. "That's what I don't like about this whole bloody mess – we still don't know who's behind this and why. I like to know who my opponents are."

"Me too." Erin ran a tired hand over her eyes. For the fifth night in a row she had been forced to leave Rosie in her mother's care in order to make sure this case went on running. Bilberry had been on her back regarding Harry's escape, and now Ruth had disappeared. If she was not careful, Bilberry may take this whole thing the wrong way and think that Ruth had aided Harry in escaping; that she'd gone on the run instead of being abducted. After all, what was her and Dimitri's word against a man who quite plainly did not like Harry or Ruth one bit? It sounded terrible but their one advantage was that Elena Gavrik had also been kidnapped; therefore this would not just be swept under the carpet. Even so, she thought it might be best to hold off this information from Bilberry for as long as possible; she did not entirely trust the man, or his principles.

"Do we tell blockhead Bilberry?" Calum asked her, as if reading her mind.

"I think we hold off on telling him… just for a while. Let's see if we can find Ruth and Elena ourselves first before we involve him."

"Let's start with motive," Dimitri agreed, equally as tired as Erin, with large dark circles under his eyes. He looked utterly exhausted and his shirt was crumpled from when he had slept on the grid last night. Erin knew this because she had found him there in the early hours of the morning, snoring. She had woken him up with a large mug of coffee, only for him to jump so violently when she whispered his ear to wake up, that he nearly knocked her and the whole mug flying. "Why would anyone want to kidnap Ruth?"

"Why would anyone want to attack Ruth in the first place?" Erin pointed out. At Dimitri's reproachful look she sighed, "Yes… yes I know your theory about her knowing too much and all that… but let's the just look at the facts… Harry's escaped and now Ruth's gone missing."

"I don't follow." Calum frowned, quite confused.

"What I mean is… we only have the Americans' word for it that Harry escaped. He was supposedly being taken to an American holding shelter after all, and Ruth did say he promised not to do anything reckless. I may not have been entirely fair on my judgement towards Harry in the past, but I do know that he cares about Ruth and that baby. He wouldn't do anything to put them on the line."

"_So_?" Calum prompted.

"So either Ruth's been kidnapped to try and find out where Harry is… but that doesn't explain Elena's capture… or Harry was possibly taken as well."

"Wait a minute," Calum said, rubbing his hands over his temples. "What are we saying here? That Harry didn't escape the Americans – he was taken by them?"

"Let's not forget that the actual guy who was in the room with Harry was one of the bastards who raped Ruth." Erin said firmly. "It's perfectly possible. Or at least I can see it is anyway."

"I think you're right." Dimitri nodded in agreement.

Calum smirked, "Well you would."

Dimitri turned quickly to him, "And what's that supposed to mean?" he demanded hotly.

"Nothing." Calum shrugged cheekily. "Only as a grid-based officer, I think you'll find out I see a lot more than anyone will ever know."

"Then you're not bloody good at it." Dimitri muttered under his breath, but neither Erin nor Calum heard him.

"Enough." Erin said sharply. "This is no time for you two to be arguing."

"We weren't arguing." Calum said stubbornly. "Just… good natured banter."

"Whatever you were doing, stop it." Erin muttered crossly. "We've got enough to do without me playing teacher and you two being the four year olds."

"Why would anyone want to kidnap Elena then?" Dimitri said levelly, getting the conversation back on track. There was a pause as everyone stopped the think.

"Maybe," Erin said slowly. Maybe we got this wrong… maybe you and Harry were wrong all this time," she said to Dimitri. "What if this whole thing has been about Harry's past? What if it's a revenge mission?"

"Which would explain why they'd kidnap Ruth," Dimitri finished, apparently catching on. "They know he cares about her, and Elena was his main contact back in Berlin."

"Right." Erin agreed. Then she frowned as a thought suddenly occurred to her. "But then… who is doing this? Assuming our theory is correct, who could possibly be behind this? Who'd hold a grudge for that long and why?"

"Harry's done an awful lot of things I'm prepared to bet even Ruth doesn't know about." Calum said, in an unusually wise tone.

"Yeah," Dimitri agreed. "And I'm pretty sure that quite a lot of them are things he's not proud of. Harry has a lot of enemies."

"Assuming this is about Harry." Calum interjected, clasping his hands in his lap thoughtfully. "I mean, quite a hefty degree of this is guesswork and theories."

"Yeah," Erin sighed. "But in case you hadn't noticed Calum, quite a lot of our work is based around guesswork and theories."

Dimitri smiled softly, "If only Ruth was here."

"What?" Erin asked; a little hurt that he did not seem to think she was adequate enough for the job. "Why?"

"Ruth's guesswork and theories are almost always correct." He said knowingly, and Erin could not help but smile in appreciation of this fact.

Dimitri suddenly jumped as his phone began to buzz in his trouser pocked. He drew it out and checked his messages, a frown flashing over his features, making him look more tired than ever.

"What is it?" Erin asked concernedly, having seen him freeze upon reading the text.

"Hhmm?" Dimitri asked looking up, apparently not having heard what she had said due to being so completely absorbed in the message.

"What's up?" Erin asked nodding to the phone as if to ask him who had sent it.

"Home Secretary." Dimitri said shortly by way of explanation, shoving his phone none-too-gently back into his pocket. "He wants me for something."

"Now?" Erin asked irritably.

"Yes." Dimitri replied firmly, although with a hint of apology in his voice. "When the Home Secretary says see him now, he usually means business."

"Dim, in case you haven't noticed Ruth's been kidnapped."

"I… I know." He finished solemnly, his face already to picture of worry about the elder woman whom he admired so much. So much so, Erin decided to let him off the strangling leash just a little bit, and she softened her features towards him. "That's why the Home Secretary wants to see me," Dimitri sighed, so suddenly as if he had only just thought of this. "Elena Gavrik has been missing for some hours – as noticed by the tight security of Ilya Gavrik, and since we _haven't_ been on security duty with the Gavriks as we were supposed to, we're going to be getting an ear-full."

"Shall I go with you then?" Erin sighed, making a grab for her jacket over the back of her chair.

"No." Dimitri said so suddenly and loudly, Erin stepped back a little away from him and the chair. Dimitri saw her eyes widen and he put his hands up in silent apology. "Look sorry… sorry Erin… things… things are just piling up. Look," he said kindly, squeezing her shoulder to placate her now hurt feelings. "I'll deal with it. You and Cal have got to find Ruth. We can't let anything happen to her or the baby, and heads will roll if we don't find Elena."

Erin nodded, though slightly frostily, "Right."

Dimitri sighed, gave both of his colleagues a nod to announce his exit before striding towards and through the pods.

Calum twiddled a pen through his fingers with ease, observing Erin's upset face for a moment, before turning back to his computer with the intention of hacking into CCTV databases near the area Ruth and Elena had been snatched. "He was always weird." He muttered.

* * *

><p>Harry gripped Ruth's hand tightly as they shuffled their way along the darkened corridor. Quite how the guards and the Gavriks' had managed to navigate their way down there without torches was beyond explanation, he thought. Every so often Ruth would let out a slight gasp and a moan because ever since the panic of thinking she was going to be attacked again, the baby had begun kicking wildly. Harry was more or less convinced it was a boy now, due to the fact that whenever its mother seemed to be in trouble, it always kicked as if this act would protect her. A son protecting his mother – just as it should be. And that was just how it was when all those years ago Jane walked out on him, taking Graham with her. Catherine had flashed him a look that told him she was upset and angry but still loved him anyway; Graham had not looked at him at all. And they had barely seen each other since that day, other than the odd occasion when Harry had been forced to pay his son's bail cost or get him out of trouble in court for another mishap. If Ruth was worried about being a bad mother, then she obviously had not seen him at work, Harry thought bitterly. Sometimes he wondered whether he was going to let their child down as badly as he had Graham and Catherine, but then he looked at Ruth and he just knew that she would not let him go wrong. You could barely say they were together band yet Harry knew that they were already closer than he and Jane had ever been. That was why he was going to do anything and everything to get her and the baby out of here.<p>

They turned into another narrow corridor, however this time things were a little lighter and they saw a small but definite light at the end of the tunnel.

"Why do I feel afraid of leaving the safety of the darkness?" Ruth asked quietly, attempting to keep her tone light for fear of getting hysterical again. It wasn't doing her, Harry, their situation or the baby any good.

"I think you just answered your own question." Harry responded, smiling slightly. "At least we can't be seen here – when we get there… wherever _there_ is … we'll be exposed."

"I really wish we were armed right now." Ruth whispered.

Harry actually managed a chuckle, "You must be desperate – Ruth Evershed carrying and using a gun – you hate firearms."

"I didn't necessarily mean a gun." Ruth said quietly, although she was smiling in the darkness. "Just… something I can use to hit people with."

"Oh…" Harry said grinning. "You mean like a tree branch."

Ruth looked back up at Harry's darkened outline in alarm. "I didn't know you knew about that." She said quickly.

"Oh yes," Harry grinned mischievously. "Adam was quite complimentary of your hitting skills… said you were quite enthusiastic to hit that guy again actually."

"I… I wasn't." she spluttered back.

Harry let out another wheezy chuckle, and pulled his arm around her shoulders, "There's no need to be embarrassed." He said honestly. "I was very proud of you." He squeezed her shoulder gently. "I _am_ very proud of you."

Ruth smiled to herself at Harry's loving comment, but although she was maintaining the banter, she was getting increasingly exhausted. With the weight of the baby pressing down on her, her feet hurt like hell, and her back was in constant agony each time she moved. All she really wanted to do was sleep, and Harry must have realised this when she staggered through her steps a little.

"I'm so sorry." He said grievously. "This is the last thing you need in your condition."

"I'm fine." She lied insistently.

"No you're not," he replied, not in the least bit fooled. "You're exhausted." He closed his eyes, knowing he would have to go against his tender side and revert to spook mode to get out of this. "But I'm afraid we can't stop – we've got to-"

"I know." Ruth finished simply, whilst Harry looked on her increasingly lightened features in wonder. She was perhaps one of the bravest women he knew. No, she was _the bravest_ woman he knew. Despite her attempts to hurry along with his quick pace, she was lagging behind and merely waddling as fast as possible, so he at least gave her that small grace and slowed down, placing both hands behind her back to help her along. She said nothing but he could see her flash him a grateful half-smile.

The light was ever approaching, and as they narrowed their eyes, they saw within the room ahead what looked like a small table with a few chairs dotted around it, a fridge of sorts, and what was basically a small kitchen unit. They had almost reached the open doorway when they halted, hearing the sound of clear shuffling footsteps. Seconds later they watched quite plainly as the second guard, the one Ruth recognised as the Russian, Anatoly, walk over to the fridge-like unit and take out a small canister of milk to be poured into his cup of tea, before whistling as he replaced it back into the fridge. From the domestic of the sight, anyone might have thought this man was having a casual day reading the paper rather than holding hostage two prisoners who were most likely to be shot and killed. Whilst the man's back was turned as he stirred the milk into his tea, Harry took note of the fact that a handgun was sticking out of a holster near his back pocket, and he turned to an anxious Ruth to indicate to her to be quiet. Once she nodded in agreement he nodded to her that he was going to approach Anatoly, and that she was to stay hidden in the remnants of the darkness, to which she suddenly looked fearful again, but did as she was told without argument. It was rare that she did not put up any argument, Harry thought, but they both knew that this was a dire situation, and she would have to trust his spook instincts. So as Ruth melted back a few paces into the darkness, Harry very quietly approached the young Russian. On his approach, he wondered for Ruth's benefit whether he should merely knock the young guard out, but then he thought that if they didn't get out of this mess, then there would still be one more guard who would try to rape Ruth. What was more, this was undoubtedly one of Ruth's attackers from before, judging from her terrified face, and he knew as soon as he was right behind the unaware guard that he would kill him just for that.

Harry seized the Russian's neck from behind and squeezed just as hard as he had done with the American in the darkened room. The young man let out a few chokes of surprise, and tried to prise Harry's hands away from his neck just as the American had done, but it was again, to no prevail. This time, Harry could see the young man's eyes bulge in fear and horror as air he desperately needed was deprived from his lungs; he could see the light leave his eyes as his body became limp in Harry's arms. Breathing if not a little raggedly, Harry hastily removed the gun from the man's holster and also searched his jacket for anything that might help them out of the situation. His hand enclosed around a pair of car keys, and he placed them into his own trouser pocket. With that Harry dropped the body harshly onto the cold stone floor, and turned to Ruth who was only just visible, coming out of the shadows. Her eyes were wide and horror-struck, but nevertheless she again seemed to reluctantly accept his actions, and walked slowly over to him.

"Why did you go through his pockets?" she asked in a tight voice.

"I found some car keys," Harry told her gently. "We might need them for the escape."

Ruth nodded in agreement, before spotting something over the other end of the kitchen. Lying in the draining board was a small, but very sharp steak knife, which she drew out and brought back with her over to Harry. He watched in both astonishment and pride as he held the gun and she the knife; reminding himself just how much of a born-spook she really was. He nodded to her to follow on through the opposite door, and together they entered through it.

They entered through many rooms, and were both very glad that they were all empty. It occurred to them as they journeyed through the rooms that this was perhaps a small cottage, judging from the fact that it had all the facilities, including a bedroom and sitting room. When they reached the sitting room, Ruth could take herself no further and collapsed into a mouldy, dusty but adequate chair.

"Ruth?" Harry asked, his eyes filled with concern as he turned back to her.

"I… I'm sorry." Ruth whispered back, her hand running over her large bump, her brow creased in agony. "I don't think I can go much further."

"Sweetheart," Harry said, looking round to check there was no one coming, before kneeling in front of her exhausted form, taking her free hand in his. "We're so close. I can feel it, we're nearly there now."

She was panting now as she tried to regain her breath, "I'm sorry… I just need to rest for… for a minute."

Harry swallowed nervously, knowing that had it been anyone else playing the straggler, he would have demanded they get a move on. But as he stared at Ruth, the woman he loved, already trying her best to get their child out of this mess at almost full-term pregnancy, he knew he could ask no more of her for the moment. "Okay." He nodded reluctantly, but cocked the gun just in case any unwelcome visitors entered the room. He then crouched back down before her again and placed his hand over hers on her baby bump. "How are you doing?" he asked, making it clear he was asking about the baby as well as herself.

She smiled softly through her deep breaths, not feeling it was quite the right moment to tell Harry that she enjoyed the feeling of his hand on her own intimately like this. "I'm alright. My… feet and back just… hurt like… bloody mad that's all." She said faintly, closing her eyes tiredly. "And this little one doesn't seem to want to refrain from kicking for long."

"You should be glad that it's still kicking." Harry told her gently, feeling yet another powerful kick even through her hand.

"Oh I am." Ruth assured him, and he could see the honesty in her eyes. "Believe me, I am. I just-"

She suddenly stopped dead as they heard a noise occur in the next room. Ruth's hand automatically shot to Harry's, whilst Harry clutched the gun with his other hand as if his life depended on it, turning round as silently as he could. The noise sounded again, and Harry cursed himself inwardly for not thinking to check and shut all the doors surrounding the room. Whoever was in the next room had obviously heard them, but Harry knew the moment he heard those slow, sauntering footsteps, who it was. Moments later, Ilya Gavrik walked smartly through the door, a small smile playing on his face, only to be followed by Elena half a step behind. Ilya took a moment to process the sight in front of him before, smiling, and raising his hands to clap. It was only then Harry registered the gun in llya's hand, which hindered his clapping slightly, but the smug look on his face more than made up for it.

"Well done Harry and Ruth," Ilya addressed them in a tone that may well have been asking them whether they took sugar in their tea in any ordinary situation. "You managed to escape your… prison cell." HHijfengngnaiwergnrieo[bvebfnffbfb beruwfewrbbewbHis smirk widened slightly. "not that I expected anything less from two spooks." He took in the gun in Harry's right hand, the forefinger preparing to squeeze the trigger any second. "Oh come do not be like that," Ilya mocked. "Besides, I have a gun trained directly at you, and yours is ranged from floor-level. I wonder which one of us could shoot accurately first?" he mused.

"This isn't a game Ilya." Harry growled, his other hand squeezing Ruth's hand still very tightly as she breathed in and out in rapid panicky breaths.

"That would depend which side your on." Ilya replied. "You see, I only have to move my gun slightly," he did so, aiming it now at Ruth. "And I can shoot your precious Ms Evershed."

"And I could do the same to Elena." Harry replied quickly, but knowing Ilya could sense the false threat immediately.

"No you couldn't Harry," Ilya replied confidently. "You may be angry at her… you may feel betrayed… but you couldn't kill her. I think we both know that."

Silence erupted throughout the room in which Harry knew his bluff had been successfully called, but he still would not let up the gun. It was his only bargaining chip for getting he and Ruth out safely.

"Elena," Ilya addressed his wife quietly, who jumped and looked surprised at being involved in the situation. "Collect Harry's gun."

Elena stepped forwards to obey her husband, Ilya's gun still trained on Harry's chest, but Harry would not give up without a fight, "You approach me," he directed at Elena. "And I will kill you."

Elena stared doubtfully at him for a moment before continuing her journey towards him, "I warn you," Harry said, getting desperate now. "I killed your two precious guards – I've proven it is well within my capability to kill to protect myself and those I love – do not think it will be any different for you."

He could not help but notice that both Ilya and Elena looked a little shocked at this news, and so they could safely assume they had not known about this. It also confirmed that they _had_ only been next door when he and Ruth stopped; making himself even more furious at the fact that if he had only checked the doors before Ruth rested, they could have been perfectly safe. Yet despite even his persistent threats, Elena kept coming. With every step, Harry willed himself to pull the trigger, but each time his forefinger threatened to squeeze against it, his heart told him not to do it. It was virtual mental agony; having the small part of him which still cared for Elena ruling supreme over his spook survival instincts. The cycle kept on going until Elena reached him, holding out her hand for the gun; Harry gritted his teeth however and kept a tight hold on it.

"Give it to my wife Harry," Ilya said, moving his aim to Ruth again, who, Harry could sense was squirming, perhaps in order to avoid the barrel of the gun. "Or Ms Evershed will die now."

Harry thought about it seriously; whether he and Ruth were indeed going to get another chance to escape, in which case he had to let her live, or whether if they were not, it would be kinder to let Ilya shoot Ruth now to avoid her going through the trauma of rape all over again. He was after all very much aware that although he had killed two of the guards, Ruth's remaining attacker, and of all the people, his son, Sasha was probably still available to carry out this torture. Ilya must have seen these thoughts flashing through Harry's head because he said sharply:

"If you do not give Elena the gun, I will firstly shoot you, and then I shall ensure Ruth gets her own private punishment before joining you in death." He smiled nastily now. "It's your choice."

Harry swallowed, looking between Ilya and Elena. All of them knew that he was not going to let that happen; whilst there was still breath in his body he was not going to let Ruth suffer that. At least with him alive, it would make things just a little easier for her. Reluctantly, Harry released the trigger and moved the gun towards Elena's grasp.

Before the older woman could grab it however, to everyone's shock, Ruth suddenly lunged forwards with surprising agility and seized Elena around the neck. Despite the fact that the other woman was taller Ruth coped incredibly well, bringing Elena down to her level so that she was bent backwards, and it was then Harry recognised the flash of metal near Elena's throat as the knife Ruth had picked up earlier.

"No Ilya," Ruth said as steadily as she could, beyond all caring whether she killed anyone or not now – especially Elena. Her breathing was staggered, her back ached and she was fighting the overwhelming urge to vomit. "You give Harry your gun, or I will kill your wife."

Ilya's eyes had widened in shock at this completely unexpected move from an apparently fragile woman. Meanwhile, it was Harry's turn to smile in adoration at Ruth as she gripped the knife to Elena's throat, not hard enough to make a mark, but just enough to be able to cut the older woman's throat in a trice if necessary.

"N… no." Ilya said, although all the confidence had completely evaporated from his voice. "I know about you Ruth Evershed – you've never killed a soul in your entire life."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Harry replied, remembering a certain French assassin who had ended up with three bullets in him, courtesy of Ruth's fight for survival. And things were even more desperate now as she was fighting for all three of them. He took in llya's doubtful face. "Come on Ilya, I know you love your wife. You wouldn't want to let anything happen to her would you."

He was approaching Gavrik now, out of aim of the older man's gun which was hanging limply from his hand due to his sudden lack of confidence. Harry held out his free hand, his own gun in the other pointing firmly at Ilya. "Give me the gun."

Harry reached forwards and was just about to tug the gun out of Ilya's hand when another, louder sound than before echoed round the room, followed by swift footsteps.

"Armed officers!" yelled a familiar voice. "Show yourself!"

Harry's heart leapt as he recognised the voice, an overwhelming sense of relief flooding through him. He and Ruth were saved – everything was going to be alright.

"Dimitri!" he shouted so that he could be heard wherever the young officer was throughout the house. "We're in here."

Mere seconds later, the wonderful sight of Dimitri entered room, carrying a larger tommy gun, and looking absolutely worn out. For an instant, the young man took in what was going on in the scene before him, before calling out behind him, "They're in here."

More footsteps could be heard; this time not running but striding through the stone hallways of this bizarre cottage. The room seemed to have frozen until the surprising image of the British Home Secretary strode in through the door, also taking a moment to survey the scene.

"Home Secretary," Harry said, trying hard not to show his surprise. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Towers' eyes drifted over Harry, Ruth, and then Ilya and Elena, before he shook his head, "Ilya and Elena Gavrik – I don't believe it." He muttered bemusedly.

"Better start believing it." Harry muttered, reaching for Ilya's gun, just as Towers said sharply.

"Give Dimitri your gun."

When Ilya did not move, Harry frowned confusedly at this lack of obeying orders from the British Home Secretary; especially since he was vastly outnumbered three to one.

"Give Dimitri your gun Harry." Harry's frown deepened and he looked up, only to be confronted with the barrel of Dimitri's gun. He may as well have been shot, because Harry felt as wounded as if he had been so; the sharp stab of betrayal seeping within him.

"No." he heard Ruth whisper heartbreakingly, as it suddenly dawned on both her and him what was going on – what had been going on for the last six months or so. "No Dimitri… please… not you…"

But Dimitri did not spare Ruth a glance as he aimed his gun perfectly steadily at Harry; his expression may well have been made of stone by the way he stared at the older man. "The gun Harry." He said calmly, holding out his free hand.

"Honestly Ilya," Towers tutted, whilst the Russian smirked satisfactorily, disengaged himself from Harry's grasp and strode over to join the two newcomers. "Allowing yourself to be caught off-guard by the likes of Harry Pearce and Ruth Evershed. It's fortunate for you that we arrived when we did."

Harry swallowed as he realised the full picture of Coaver's dying words. Three people who were in on the plot. Ilya Gavrik, Elena Gavrik and the third party… the British Home Secretary. And most importantly… Dimitri.

**Dun dun dun... so sorry to do that to you. The question is... what'll happen to Harry and Ruth now? I have to apologise for any spelling mistakes/ letters missing from words, as my keyboard has been playing up of late and because I'm quite a fast typer, it's a little bit slow and can't catch up. I'll try to update as soon as possible to let you know what's going to happen next. I'm not giving any spoilers this time ;) Please review if you want more :) xx**


	39. Chapter 39

**So sorry it's only really short, but I'm updating when I can. I can't remember doing a chapter as short as this since the opening of this sotry... that seems like such a long time ago now. Oh dear... sorry to anyone who feels I'm dragging it out a bit! A little bit more on how everything fits together... AKA, another exposition. I hope you like it anyway. Please review :)**

Harry stared at the three men before him, feeling as if he was swimming underwater. Things seemed almost distorted as he tried to come to terms with what this new evidence was suggesting. Surely this could not be… Towers was a pompous old fool but Harry had counted him as one of the rarely decent politicians – surely he wouldn't get mixed up with two Russian terrorists. But then again, the man Harry knew as Dimitri Levendis would not either. There had to be some ordinary explanation to this.

"Please tell me," Harry growled, breathing heavily as he took in the image before him. He still had not relinquished his grip on the gun and there was no way he was going to do so before he had answers. Ruth seemed to be following his lead, still holding the knife to the neck of a significantly calmer Elena, however as the sight before her sunk in, her chin began to tremble. "Tell me… that I've got all of this wrong." Harry said, his eyes resting desperately on Dimitri. "Tell me that you're not part of all this."

Towers sighed, clapping Dimitri on the shoulder; the young man did not wince once either under the strain of Towers' hand or under Harry's watchful eye – his expression remained as stony as a miserable grey statue. "I'm sorry to disappoint you Harry." The Home Secretary replied.

Both Harry and Ruth looked between the two newcomers in utter horror. Not only was the British Home Secretary seemingly up to his neck in this mess, but he was also apparently proud of it. Not once had he tried to deny his involvement to Harry, an experienced spy who happened to be holding a gun; a gun which was essential in whether he, his lover and his child got out safely. Then again, this might have been because the young officer on his right was holding a gun to Harry's chest. Ruth felt her courage start to waver as she looked into the now cold eyes of Dimitri, whom she had in recent months trusted with her life – and Harry's too. It had all been an act – somehow, without either she or Harry noticing, Dimitri had been reporting to Towers all this time. He was not the loyal, caring young man who had held her hand when she despaired over whether she was ever going to see Harry again.

Harry heard Ruth release a small sob of hurt, and this was enough to mount his anger to such an extent that he spat out at Dimitri: "You bastard!"

"Now, now Harry," Towers said in a chiding voice, annoyingly similar to Ilya Gavriks only a few short minutes ago. "No need to be like that."

"There's every need!" Harry growled, his eyes fixed in a glare at Dimitri, his lips quivering in pure unadulterated fury. "How long have you been involved with this?" he demanded of the young man. When he did not deign to reply, Harry barked: "HOW _BLOODY_ LONG?"

Dimitri still did not seem capable of an answer – not that he looked in the least bit perturbed by Harry shouting – perhaps this was why Ruth was now so heartbroken that her grip on the knife slackened and the weapon slipped from her fingers, spinning unceremoniously to the floor. Elena, who was remarkably quick for her age, withdrew to her normal height, whilst Ruth collapsed to her knees in exhaustion, whimpering as she clutched tight to her stomach, where the baby was kicking incredibly overzealously. Harry was gazing with such concentrated fury at Dimitri that he didn't register what was going on until he heard a loud slap from nearby. He finally turned his head to see Ruth on the floor, now cradling her left cheek which was quickly burning red, whilst Elena stood over her, her hand raised – the obvious evidence that she had inflicted the assault.

Seeing Ruth's distress, Harry made to launch himself at Elena, whose eyes widened in shock, however he heard Dimitri cock his gun as Towers said sharply, his voice no longer light and chiding, "Do I have to say it a third time Harry?" he asked, eyebrows raised in annoyance. "Give the gun to Dimitri."

Harry looked over at Ruth whose chin was trembling and trying so desperately not to show how scared she actually was, before his eyes followed Elena mutinously as she glided across the room to stand next to her husband. "No." he suddenly said, in a calmer tone of voice than he felt.

"I have told you what will happen if you do not give up the gun Harry, have I not?" Ilya asked him smugly, placing a hand on his wife's arm. When Harry made no move or reply he continued, "Look around you Harry – you are surrounded by enemies. Whatever happens now, there is no way out for you. Look at your precious Ms Evershed – by the looks of her she cannot take much more of this. What do you think?"

Harry refused to look at Ruth again, because he knew that if he did his heart would break for the final time, and they would be done for.

"I want answers." He said eventually, much to the surprise of the four people in front of him. "Starting with you." He nodded to Dimitri and aimed towards the young man with the barrel of his gun, whilst again Dimitri looked back unwaveringly. When nothing happened for a moment Harry said with gritted teeth, "You answer my questions and I'll…. Consider giving up the gun. I'm offering no other compromise."

"Or Dimitri here can just shoot you right this minute." Ilya reasoned, with an appreciative nod from Towers.

Harry looked at Dimitri with his eyebrows raised mockingly, knowing that this tactic had to be their last chance, "Do you think you could do it boy?" He sneered, watching Dimitri remain stock still. The only indication that the young man had taken in the insult of 'boy' was that he swallowed quietly. "Do you think you could shoot me before I shoot you?"

Even Towers looked as if he was having doubts now as his eyes flickered towards Dimitri; his face contained something similar to fear.

"Do you honestly think you, with only a few years training, and merely a few years above a schoolboy could shoot me, before I – a soldier and MI5 officers of over thirty years – could shoot you?"

"The older you are, the frailer you are." Dimitri replied, speaking for the first time since his arrival. His voice was not soft and yielding as it usually was; it was monotonous and filled with hatred, with a barely a scrap of raw humanity within it. "I was in the SBS for a number of years – don't think I can't handle something as tiny as a trigger."

All other eyes in the room swivelled between Harry and Dimitri as pupil challenged master in the ultimate confrontation. Ruth just managed to smother her tears as she prayed to anyone listening that Harry would not come out at the wrong end of this disagreement.

"You owe us the truth." Harry growled mutinously. "If nothing else."

"I owe you nothing." Dimitri replied.

"So being a colleague for two years means nothing to you?" Harry demanded.

Dimitri shrugged, completely unabashed, "Work is work… nothing more nothing less."

"So all that garbage about seeing Ruth as a mentor and being loyal to us-"

"Was just that," Dimitri agreed, still stony-faced. "Complete garbage. I think you'll find I'm quite a good actor when I want to be."

"Why?" Harry demanded, pleased that he had now got the youngster talking. "Why do this? What could you possibly gain from it?"

"Money." Dimitri replied simply. "A great deal of money."

Harry glared at Dimitri for a second in complete disgust, "How could you be so narrow-minded? I had such high hopes for you. You could have been one of the brightest and best."

"I think I've already proven that I'm one of the best – I was able to conceal from the great Harry Pearce that I was a double agent."

"How do you get money out of creating anarchy?" Came a familiar, softer voice. All eyes turned to Ruth who was slowly getting to her feet from the floor, using the armchair as leverage to pull herself up. "All that is going to happen is that a Russian plane containing American and some Russian delegates is going to blow up. You're going to murder them _and_ innocent civilians as the plane crashes down, and then there is going to be no partnership as Ilya retreats in disgust. Mine and Harry's names are going to be discredited internationally and there is to be no relationship between the Russians and the English. Where in that can you possibly gain any money?"

"Money and power." Dimitri corrected her swiftly.

"What?" Harry demanded.

"You see, with you gone, Dimitri shall continue as Head of Counter Terrorism," Towers explained. "With my help of course. He shall try with all of his might to stop the plane going down, but unfortunately he doesn't quite make it in time. But, because of his brave attempts, he shall continue on as Head of your unit." He clapped Dimitri on the shoulders as a father might his son.

Harry wrinkled his nose at the scene and explanation, "Oh please," he muttered in disgust. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Of course, Ms Watts will have to be removed first… she's far too ambitious. But then again, with the state of the economy… everyone is being laid off these days. And she was only installed there temporarily anyway… I think it's about time she left MI5."

Ruth looked towards Dimitri, her cheeks now flushed, almost as furious as Harry, "How dare you!" she directed at him. "How dare you be such a lying bastard as to make out that you care about her… that you love her, when all you were doing in fact was seducing her off the scent."

Dimitri shrugged abrasively and Towers continued for him, "And not only that… there will be sizable pay-packet going into his bank balance each week. As will there be for me as well… compliments of Ilya's employers."

"We are only too glad to pay." Ilya said calmly, his eyes glinting evilly at Harry. "What is a little money going towards a couple of friends, especially when there is no agreement?"

"I really am going to be sick." Harry sneered, seeing Ruth walk towards him out of the corner of his eye. He really wished she wouldn't – if anything happened she would be within shooting distance from either of Dimitri's or Ilya's guns.

"Bent politicians and civil servants are always found out in the end." Ruth said rather bravely, coming to stand beside Harry. "And the consequences aren't pretty."

"Do not worry Ruth dear," Ilya said calmly. "It is not of your concern... you and Harry will be dead by the end of the day."

"That really is no incentive for me to give you the gun you know." Harry warned them, fingering the trigger on his tommy gun. He looked between the four smug faces in front of him. "What is this obsession with getting rid of the agreement? Why does it matter so much?"

"It is of importance to my employers. I have told you this." Ilya informed him with a smirk.

Harry stared at him for a few moments, sizing the Russian up and thinking hard before he said quietly, "Let me guess… your employer is Mikhail Levrov."

Both he and Ruth knew he had guessed correctly when the horrible smirk slid off Ilya's face, only to be replaced by a frown.

"Surprised I have a keen interest in renegade KBG leaders?" Harry asked in a falsely pleasant voice.

Ilya replied coldly, "Not at all Harry. You are a man of many surprises and much knowledge."

"Not going to correct me then?" Harry said, knowing for sure his guess was right.

"It is a shame your knowledge and brains have gone to waste for all these years."

"I have used my knowledge to try and protect the country from tyranny." Harry answered equally coldly. "From people like you."

"It is unfortunate and quite ironic then, that your death will be painted against a picture of terrorism, death and destruction." Ilya said, his smirk now returning fast to his face.

"Go on then," Harry tested him again. "What is Levrov's reason for trying to destroy the agreement?"

"I do not question my employer Harry," Ilya said. "I at least, am not stupid enough to get myself killed. I do what I am told to do."

"And so does Elena apparently." Harry said, turning his glare on her. She swallowed but tried her best not to look abashed. He had the feeling she was growing more and more uncomfortable about the situation.

"So Levrov gets what he wants," Ruth surmised. "You and your wife get money and publicity, Dimitri gets money and power," she turned her head to looked at Towers, who was standing quite contentedly next to his fellow terrorists. "And you get money."

"That's right." He replied quite happily.

"Has it occurred to you Home Secretary," Harry said dangerously quietly. "That with this attack happening under your watch, you are going to receive bad press and be… removed from office."

Towers shrugged, "To be completely honest I don't really mind. I've probably be doing this job for long enough. I'm tired of it Harry – my health is declining, and my daughter thinks I've sunk so far into the job that I neglect her."

"Well my daughter doesn't really speak to me either," Harry spat back. "But I don't turn into a terrorist."

"Well aren't you the hero then." Towers growled. "And I do not go in for terrorism… this is merely… a diplomatic negotiation that is… agreeable to both sides."

"Well I hope that excuse helps you to sleep at night," Ruth said suddenly, just as angry as Harry, who wished she would be quiet as Dimitri now directed his gun at her chest. "Thousands could potentially die when that plane crashes down but hey… at least the four of you have money, power, and a negotiation that is _agreeable_ to you."

Despite his worry for her safety, Harry could not help but feel a surge of pride towards her as the words flooded from her mouth. It was just like having the Ruth of old standing beside him, and he was reminded of the 'controlled holocaust' outburst she released one time when particularly angry, some years ago now.

Towers was now glaring at Ruth, "If I retire, then I can spend some time with her and I'll have to money to look after her properly… she can do whatever she likes in terms of business. Or I could stay in the job and still help her to pay for a quality business… either way I win."

Harry's glare had returned to Dimitri whose gun was still trained at Ruth's chest. Fearing for the safety of her and their child, he directed Dimitri's attention away from the woman he loved. "You still haven't told me when Levendis."

This was the first time Harry had called Dimitri by his surname; it was a mark of just how furious he was at the young man. Yet it successfully caught Dimitri's attention and the gun returned once again to Harry's chest.

"When did you become involved in all of this?" Harry demanded. "From the start? From the minute the Gavriks' arrived? Before they arrived? Were you working for them all the time; even when four of your little friends were hurting Ruth?"

Ruth had to look down at this comment, and Harry instantly wished he hadn't said that; it would mean her courage and confidence would diminish, and she had been doing so well.

"Admittedly after the rape," Towers reasoned. "In fact, sometime around the disposal of Joseph Willard. We needed another asset and although he was loyal to you at first… we brought him round to our way of thinking."

Harry glared at Dimitri, about to say something furious when Ruth whispered so softly and quietly, she almost inaudible, "You're a fool Dimitri."

Dimitri's eyes narrowed slightly at her but otherwise he said nothing. However within a few seconds he had cocked his gun and was ready to pull the trigger. "Give me the gun Harry." He said quietly.

Harry looked at Ruth who was looking fearfully at the gun aimed directly at his heart, before glancing around at the other faces, and then the rest of the room. He needed inspiration… any sort of inspiration that was going to help get them out of this. He needed… a miracle.

**Up next, how are HR going to get of this mess? I absolutely loved Sparky75's comment about Erin and Calum having a few 'lightbulb moments'! Apologies again for it only being short. Like I said, I'm updating when I can, but life sort of gets in the way. Anyway, I've got something planned that I think people might like. Please review and I'll update as quickly as I can. :)**


	40. Chapter 40

**Here is another one sooner than I intended because people kept telling me to update quickly. Not too much HR in this one but hopefully people will still like it anyway. For Sparky75 - Erin and Calum's 'lightbulb moments' ;)**

"Give me the gun Harry." Dimitri said coldly to the older man. Harry was still glancing around the room in a desperate attempt to find a way in which to distract them and escape, yet it was to no prevail. The room, with the exception of a few dusty, squashy chairs, and a coffee table was virtually completely bare. The amount of betrayal he had uncovered within a couple of hours had been horrific; starting with Elena, and then the Home Secretary of all people, and then followed by Dimitri. He would have liked to have completed the list with 'finishing with Dimitri', yet for all he knew this was not the end or extent of the matter. Who knew who else had been sucked into this conspiracy via temptation and the humiliatingly human action of greed? Judging by the fact that they were talking about removing Erin from MI5, it was fair to assume that she at least had not been mixed up in this fiasco, yet they had mentioned nothing of Calum. Did that mean he was involved too? Or was he merely considered not important enough to be bothered with? Harry had to admit that for as long as he had known Calum, he had never really shown particular loyalty to anyone, whether it be the job or any kind of relationship. Could John Bateman's comment about the service taking you in and spitting you back out as a bad person… could that possibly have been true? The number of corrupt officers Harry had encountered over his time in MI5 had been so few that he had been able to count them on one hand, yet pretty soon, he would possibly end up going into double digits.

"The gun Harry." Towers said expectantly to him, and Harry was now aware that even Ruth was looking at him. Her expression was virtually unreadable to those who did not know her, yet it had always been a skill of Harry's to be able to decipher what she was thinking. Ruth was staring at him with fear quite apparent in her eyes, however there was also an unmistakable fierce determination present, and he knew that whatever he chose to do she would unwaveringly follow suit. Ruth the spook had returned. Harry stared into those riveting blue eyes, and within seconds it had given him the confidence to hand over the gun, reasonably assured that in coming out of this deadlock, they would find another way out. They just had to.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Harry turned the gun over in his hand, so that it was no longer pointed at Dimitri's chest and reached out, the gun flat in his palm. Dimitri made a hasty grab for it before the older man changed his mind, snatching it from Harry's palm and revolving it in his left hand. With a speed that surprised even Harry, the young man was now holding two twin guns, both issued by the service, at the ex-section head of counter terrorism.

* * *

><p>"Cal!" Erin shouted from across the grid so that she could be heard, even when the young man was immersed in the footage before him, his ears planted between a set of headphones. Calum almost jumped half a foot in the air, and paused the rapidly sped up camera footage, ripping his headphones off to turn furiously to his colleague.<p>

"You are about ten yards from me," he complained with a frown. "Why is it necessary to shout at me from where you're standing?"

"I want to ask you something." Erin sighed, sifting through a mound of paperwork that had just been handed over by a courier from the Home Office.

"Well you could have done something to the effect of getting up, walking ten yards across the grid and saying quietly to me, 'Cal I want to ask you something'." He grumbled.

"Shut up." Erin told him, finally abandoning the paperwork, and getting to her feet, approaching his desk. As she moved closer, Calum glimpsed her mobile clenched tight into her fist and more or less guessed straight away what she was going to ask.

"If you ask me one more time where Dimitri is, I think I'm going to throw my stapler at you."

"You don't own a stapler." She snapped at him witheringly. "That's why you're always borrowing mine."

Calum paused to frown before replying smartly, "Alright then, give me _your_ stapler and I'll throw _that_ at you."

"Oh for God's sake Calum, stop acting as though your five years old!" Erin cried suddenly, so that heads looked up from around the grid. "In case you hadn't noticed, we have an ex-Section head on the run from the Americans, potentially kidnapped; Ruth's been abducted, as has the wife of the Russian ambassador-"

"And Dimitri's not answering his phone." Calum finished, having heard this rant every half an hour for the last four hours. "Bloody hell woman, why don't you just ask him out and save us both some hassle?"

It was fortunate for Calum that Erin did not hear this comment, and she finally came to a stop next to Calum's desk.

"I can't get hold of Di." She said quietly; thankfully her temper had just evaporated as quickly as it had come.

"I think I already knew that," Calum pondered, rolling his eyes in frustration.

"Do not forget Calum," Erin growled, folding her arms across her chest, and the young man noted the use of his full name. "That I am your superior and if you do not stop with the attitude at such a serious time, then even in this crisis, I swear I will fire you."

"I'm doing my best – I'm trawling through the CCTV footage and I've progressed a little bit – give a little more time and I'll get Ruth's location." Calum said, realising it was the time to talk seriously now. He smiled at her reassuringly, "I promise I will."

Erin sighed, and sat back exhaustedly on Calum's desk, "I bloody hope so." She said tiredly. "That poor woman's been through enough."

"Dimitri's probably still in with the HS." Calum said reasonably, returning to the camera footage in front of him.

"That's just the point – he's not." Erin said suddenly, causing Calum's head to shoot up in surprise.

"What do you mean?"

"He's not at Whitehall." She answered confusedly. "I have a contact down there that I phoned and asked if she could hurry up the meeting because we needed Di down here," she frowned. "And she asked 'what meeting?' – Dim hasn't been in a meeting with the Home Secretary, nor is Towers at Whitehall."

Calum shrugged, "Well there you go then – he's probably meeting Towers somewhere else. There are probably more haunts for politicians than Whitehall."

"But what could be so important that he hasn't returned in four hours?" she said promptly, having been rehearsing this argument in her head for hours. "He said he'd be back as soon as possible."

Calum did not deign to reply, especially to a female who was getting overly hormonal over another man.

"Calum!" she said sharply, indicating she hadn't finished with him. Calum sighed and raised his head to look at her expectantly, eyebrows raised questioningly.

"The reason we need Di down here is… well… there's a bit of a situation with the Gavriks'."

"What do you mean?" Calum asked frowning suspiciously. "What kind of situation?"

"I called another contact who works at the hotel where Ilya Gavrik is staying-"

"How many contacts do you have?" Calum demanded incredulously.

"-And she said that he hasn't been seen all day."

Calum stopped mocking at this and frowned in thought, "Did he know about his wife's abduction? Did we tell him?"

"No." Erin shook her head adamantly. "I ordered everyone who knew about it to keep their mouths shut, at least until I told them otherwise, so that Ilya Gavrik didn't start raving about Elena's kidnap to the press until we'd tried to get her back."

"Well what if he did find out?" Calum pointed out. "What if he's gone to take matters into his own hands?"

"If Ilya Gavrik had found out his wife was abducted, then he would be slamming down on us like a ton of bricks; he wouldn't take off and look for her himself – I've read the files on him and believe me, it's not his MO."

"So what are we saying here?" Calum clarified. "That Ruth, Elena and Harry are missing. And now Ilya?" He stared at her for a few minutes with narrowed eyes, trying to interpret her wild thoughts without her even needing to vocalise them. He suddenly grasped onto what she was insinuating, "Oh…" he said in a hushed voice as her expression intimated to him what she thought was going on. "You think that maybe Ilya Gavrik's been taken by the same people who took Ruth?"

Erin sighed, and rubbed her eyes tiredly upon glancing at Calum's sceptical expression, "Look I know it's a long shot," she justified. "But I've been keeping an eye on the Gavriks' for the past few months, and I know that Ilya doesn't even go to get a cup of coffee from the Costa down the street without two bodyguards – he's far too important to lose."

"And now he's absent, without any bodyguards or protection." Calum finished, frowning slightly.

"Precisely." Erin swallowed. "I don't like this Cal… I don't like this at all."

Calum turned away from his computer screen and twiddled a pen between his fingers – his usual method in order to put his brain in to proper gear, "So your theory so far is that Elena and Ruth have been kidnapped… not too sure who by… but they've been kidnapped, possibly by the same person or people who could potentially have taken Harry,"

"I don't see why Harry would escape after he promised Ruth he wouldn't do anything reckless." Erin interjected, and Calum nodded curtly in reply, continuing to count on his fingers the pieces of the puzzle on which they were slowly making educated guesses.

"And now you think the same person or people who took Harry, Ruth and Elena have taken Ilya Gavrik.?"

Erin stared at Calum's disbelieving face for an instant and said sharply, "You're just humouring me aren't you?"

"Yes I am." Calum confirmed, before placing the pen he had been fiddling with back down onto the desk with a sigh. "It all seems a bit… convenient. I mean… what's the connection between them all?"

"The Gavriks' are highly important people to Russians – if anything were to happen to them… well… no one _would _let anything happen to them. So maybe that's what this is about? Money?"

"Again… too convenient… too simple." Calum sighed. "And it doesn't explain why anyone would take Harry and Ruth."

Erin sighed and thought, "Political knowledge? Power? Ilya and Harry are old adversaries after all – imagine the level of information you could get from them both."

"And Ruth and Elena?"

"For leverage?" Erin answered, knowing this really was sounding farfetched now, but she could think of no other explanation.

Calum sighed, shook his head doubtfully and clasped his hands together into his lap, "We can hardly do anything though, even if you are right. I mean… Harry is supposed to have escaped from the Americans – you'll have a hard time trying to prove otherwise, especially since people like the Home Secretary and the DG will just dismiss it as us trying to make excuses for Harry – a disgraced MI5 Section Head."

Erin wondered only briefly when Calum had become quite so wise underneath all of that immature male bravado.

Calum continued to go over the points again, "You have no proof that Ilya's even been taken – for all we know, he could have grown sick of bodyguards constantly tiptoeing behind his own shadow and gone for a walk or something."

"On the same day his wife is abducted… now that really is a coincidence." Erin said firmly, crossing her arms across her chest, almost sitting on Calum's desk now as she fought to maintain her standing position. The both of them had had little over an hours sleep in forty-eight hours, and they were utterly exhausted. Calum just did a better job of not showing he was tired.

"Good point," Calum admitted. "But still, we have no evidence that he's been abducted as well."

"But we do have proof that Elena and Ruth are kidnapped." Erin pointed out, frowning and trying to work the mechanics of all the ideas in her overly-worked brain.

"Do you really want to go shouting that out?" Calum asked her seriously, before continuing sarcastically, "_'Oh by the way, one of our pregnant, disgraced ex- intel analysts met the wife of the Russian ambassador at an MI5 drop, and while we were but a mere few inches from where they were standing, they were both snatched and bundled into a van by two wackos. We have no idea where they are, no idea who is behind the attack, or whether they are actually still alive or not. But we do think that the Russian Ambassador has also been abducted… no sir, no proof – just an educated guess. Now Mr DG… about that promotion…'_"

Erin reached forwards and slapped him rather hard on the forearm, "Really not helping Calum." She snapped coldly.

Calum's attention was suddenly diverted by a flash on the screen of the computer in front of him, and he swivelled quickly on his chair to face it. Erin watched as her colleague's eyes widened and then a saw a small smile slip across his tired face.

"What?" she asked, heaving herself up from her perch on the desk and turning round to face the computer next to Calum.

"I've found the van they used to snatch Ruth and Elena Gavrik."

"Where?" Erin demanded promptly. "Did they abandon it?"

"Of course – standard procedure." Calum muttered. "But it's quite far away from where they were picked up so at least that narrows it down slightly as to where they're being held."

"Okay," Erin said grimly, watching and recognising the van that Calum zoomed into focus. It was without a doubt the van that had picked up the two elder women – its back was layered with the bullet holes she and Dimitri had provided earlier. At least they had shot some of the van accurately, she thought grimly, even though they had not hit tyres. "Cal, get a match on that licence plate and see who it belongs to… "

"Already done it – what do you take me for?" he asked grinning, happy that they seemed to finally be getting somewhere.

"And?"

"It's registered to Parkills Car and Transit Dealership – only a few miles from where Ruth and Elena were taken."

"Right, hack into Parkhills CCTV and-"

"I know." Calum said irritably, getting rather irritated with her hanging over his shoulder barking orders on how to do his job. Erin grunted peevishly and watched as Calum's finger tips literally flew across the computer keyboard as he focused on what he did best. She knew that the young man may be downright annoying and incorrigible at times, but she could be safe with the knowledge that he would get her the results she needed. Just as anticipated, within a minute the Parkhills CCTV footage was up and running across the screen, Calum occasionally fast-forwarding at irrelevant moments. He tutted impatiently as he waited for the old-fashioned black and white camera footage to focus in on the van that had been stolen. True enough, at seven o'clock that morning, the van was still parked in its place alongside the variety of coloured transit vans and Landrovers'.

"When did Ruth meet Elena?" Calum asked, trying to pinpoint the exact moment the van was stolen.

"It was about four o'clock." Erin replied swiftly, watching Calum's screen keenly as he flicked expertly through the footage until he came across the theft. As Erin had predicted the robbery occurred at two o'clock in the afternoon, nearly two hours before the meeting, and the two colleagues watched the screen closely as three men, masked with black balaclavas, walked casually into the open car park of the dealers and cool as a cucumber hijacked the van. Calum watched open-mouthed in bemusement at the fact that none of the people nearby seemed to notice this strange occurrence.

"I don't believe that," Calum said. "How could anyone not notice that? They were hardly subtle with the balaclavas were they?"

"Yeah well…" Erin sighed grimly. "We could hardly expect them to go without balaclavas could we? They must have known we'd come after them, and they weren't exactly going to wave at the camera were they? And yes," she said sadly, also rather taken aback that no one had noticed the fact that three large burly men were hijacking a van from a car dealers. "I suppose the human race is as dumb as people say we are these days."

"Speak for yourself." Calum said shortly before snorting loudly. "I don't believe it..." he said looking extremely frustrated at the footage, and jabbing his finger to the screen to point out a man sitting inside a small office adjacent to the outside sales car park. "If that's the owner in there sitting on his backside completely oblivious to all of this, than he deserves to go out of business."

"Cal," Erin said sharply, desperate to get back to the task at hand, as she had a nagging suspicion that needed to be confirmed. "Try comparing the men in the footage before Ruth's attack, and the ones in this… see if it's a match."

"Sure." Calum complied, easily bringing the former footage up with just a swipe of his hand across the keyboard. Erin straightened up and folded her arms impatiently as the software took its sweet time in loading and doing its task.

"Should be done in a minute." Calum told her calmly, sensing her impatience. Erin subconsciously checked her mobile whilst she waited, just in case Dimitri had left her any messages. Even though she desperately wanted him to have done, she was not all that surprised when she saw that there were no such messages – only one from her mother asking if she was going to be taking care of Rosie tonight again. By the time her thumbs had swiftly sent a reluctant text of 'Yes please… tell her mummy loves her very much, and to be good for grandma', Calum had released a breath indicating to her that the process had finished and she looked up. Erin did not know whether to be pleased or worried that her suspicions had been confirmed, as she saw quite plainly that the three men all matched three out of the four men in the footage of Ruth's attack.

"Anatoly Dubrovsky, Sasha Gavrik and Vincent Delloy." Calum read aloud. "That's to be expected really when Willard's dead."

"But… what? Why?" Erin spluttered, as she read over the name and information just underneath the picture of Sasha Gavrik. "Why would Sasha Gavrik want to kidnap his mum and dad?"

"We don't know Ilya Gavrik's been kidnapped." Calum said reasonably.

"Shut up." Erin said, not in the mood for Calum's rational explanation; if she wanted to be irrational, then she was going to be. Because thinking irrationally was actually the only possible way of explaining this mess. Calum meanwhile tried not to look put out at her rather harsh put down. "Why… why would he kidnap them?"

"Lots of children launch vendettas against their parents." Calum told her, picking up the pen and twiddling it between his fingers once again. "If he's mixed in with the wrong people, which it seems he most definitely has, then it would be quite easy to indoctrinate him into doing things he wouldn't usually do."

"And it would explain why those men found Elena and Ruth so easily." Erin said, nodding enthusiastically, convinced that they were finally driving in the right direction. "We used all the correct procedures so they wouldn't have been able to track us-"

"But Sasha could easily track Elena." Calum nodded in agreement. He sighed, "Right… so we know who's behind this, and we've possibly narrowed it down to a smaller area as to where they could be being held… we just don't know why Ruth and Elena have been taken."

"And possibly Harry and Ilya." Erin interjected.

"And _possibly_ Harry and Ilya." Calum echoed, putting a definite emphasis on the possibly.

Erin nodded, "Well that's good enough for me," she shrugged.

"Yeah, but unfortunately it's still not good enough to take to the Home Secretary or the DG." Calum pointed out.

Erin tutted loudly and stared exasperatedly at her silent phone, "If Di was here, I'm pretty sure he could convince Towers."

"Yeah, well unfortunately, he's also gone AWOL."

"This should be a more important priority than meeting with the HS for scones and tea." Erin snapped.

"Well it's no good having a go at me." Calum shrugged irritably. "There's nothing I can do, unless you want me to do something completely morally unethical like… I don't know… track his phone."

Erin had opened her mouth to retaliate when Calum's words hit her fully, and she stared back at him with wide eyes. "That's not a bad idea." She admitted.

Calum stared at her for an instant, trying to work out if she was serious or not. He even started to laugh uncomfortably, before he realised from the stony expression in her brown eyes that she was deadly serious.

"No." he said firmly, turning away from her, back to his computer.

"Cal-" Erin said in that light tone of voice that he knew was going to try and placate him into getting her own way.

"You can't honestly be serious?" Calum asked, although it was only partly a question.

"We need Dimitri here now… if he's not answering his phone then-"

"He'd kill me." Calum said dryly, knowing that Dimitri was not particularly fond of him as it stood. If he went bugging and tracking his private phone then Dimitri would almost certainly punch him in the face. And Calum knew that for all he was good with computers – in a fight against an ex-SBS agent, Dimitri would win hands down.

"Calum!" Erin suddenly said sharply causing him to turn round automatically in alarm. He recognised that fiery look in her eyes and he knew what it meant.

"Oh no," he moaned. "Tell me you're no pulling rank on me."

"Sorry, but yes." Erin said firmly. "Dimitri's got to be found because as much as I hate to say this, we can't do it on our own. We need him to talk to the Home Secretary and see if we can get some help in finding Ruth, Elena, Ilya and Harry."

Calum took one look at her and sighed, before turning reluctantly back to his computer, tutting loudly. "Okay… fine."

**Hope you liked that! I just wanted to let you know that Calum and Erin weren't twiddling their thumbs whilst all of the action was going on elsewhere. Next up I'll see if HR are going to escape imminently. I'll try and update as soon as I can. Please review and let me know what you think or if you want more. :)**


	41. Chapter 41

**Sorry for the long wait. Here is the next chapter, with a little bit of action now. The next chapter should hold a lot of action which I hope people will like. I got the feeling not as many people were enthusiastic about the last chapter and maybe it's going a bit sluggishly. But no fear - it's moving along much better now. Thank you to all you wonderful people who reviewed! I hope you enjoy this :)**

"What are we going to do with them sir?" Dimitri asked Towers, with that same icy cold glimmer in his eye, whilst Towers eyed them, pondering thoughtfully.

"Yes what _are_ we going to do with them?" Towers mused in a somewhat gleeful tone that completely unsuited him. Dimitri was twiddling the gun Harry had just handed over teasingly in his left hand, and Harry could feel Ruth breathing heavily in panic next to him. Thankfully, she seemed to be keeping her nerve and following his lead throughout all of this; that at least was a blessing. He himself, made sure to project his best glare at Dimitri, only noticing the smirk slide across Ilya Gavrik's face when the older Russian began to speak in that silky, but dangerously quiet tone.

"I think there is no time like the present… why not get rid of them now? Before they cause us any more… hassle?"

Towers considered this and stared at their two captives thoughtfully, "I suppose if we do that, then we can make contact with Sasha – he can inform the agent on the plane when and where to unleash the explosives."

"And you claim you're not a terrorist." Harry growled bitterly, unable to help himself and the offhand way Towers was speaking – as if this was just another ordinary aspect of foreign policy. Harry wondered just when exactly he was going to meet a politician, or more specifically, a Home Secretary, who was not as bent as a two-bob bit.

"Needs must Harry." Towers replied calmly. "We do what we need to."

"So you _need_ to kill thousands of people?" Ruth questioned him angrily.

A thin silence spread throughout the room, all heads turning to look at Ruth, who was now shaking with fury. Harry wanted nothing more than for her to be quiet at that moment, in case Dimitri felt the urge to pull the triggers of the two guns placed firmly in his hands. And both guns were aimed directly at Ruth's chest.

Ilya raised his eyebrows slightly, his smirk so wide now that he looked like a young excitable child at Christmas, planning on playing a practical joke on an unsuspecting relative, "I think… Ms Evershed should go first." He said silkily, and Harry closed his eyes in horror, before quickly opening them to glare back at Ilya. "That way, Harry can watch as his beloved woman and child die."

"You are a sadistic piece of sh-" Harry yelled, launching himself towards Ilya, his hands outstretched, ready to squeeze the Russian's throat until the pips squeaked.

Before he could reach his destination however, Dimitri stepped between them, both the guns now pointed at Harry – one at his chest, and the other directly at the centre of his forehead.

"Harry." Ruth whispered fearfully, stepping forward and taking his left hand to drag him back away from the gun barrels. Had she not sounded so desperate, Harry felt sure he would have continued on to Ilya's throat, regardless of the revolvers aimed at his head and chest – he felt so furious. Like Ruth, he was now trembling with fury; angry at the injustice of their capture, death sentence and the lives of thousands of innocent civilians that were almost inevitably going to be lost within the next 48 hours.

Towers turned to Ilya, a smile similarly slimy to the Russians slipping over his podgy features, "How about we get Dimitri to take them somewhere quiet and… dispose of them?"

Ilya looked ever so slightly disappointed, "So he gets to have the pleasure of doing it?"

Dimitri looked quickly at the other two men and spread his mouth into a smile that just didn't suit his face, "But it makes it all the more worse for it to be done by someone they used to trust, don't you think?"

Harry was on the verge of strangling all three of them by that point, as he watched them argue like a group of five year olds over a sweetie.

"Well I suppose so," Ilya nodded grudgingly. "But-"

"And besides, I certainly don't want anything to do with it – the sight of blood is not a pretty sight and I don't want that on my hands." Harry and Ruth thought bitterly to themselves that he had just as much blood on his hands as Ilya Gavrik; just not physically speaking. "Also, I don't think Elena will want to watch will you my dear?" he asked in a somewhat patronizing tone to the Russian woman who was virtually cowering behind her confident husband. She took one look at Harry, unable to look him properly in the eyes before shaking her head violently.

"I… I cannot Ilya." She said quietly. "I am sorry."

Ilya sighed and took her hand in his, kissing it softly – a rare gesture of emotion and affection from such a hardened, brutal man, "Very well my sweet, we shall not."

"Oh _please_, I really am going to be sick soon." Harry grunted, although it made Ilya's neck snap up from his attention to his wife – his cold eyes meeting Harry's in slits.

"You will not have time." He told Harry mercilessly. "In a few minutes you shall be dead. There will be no time to be sick." He smiled, looking most satisfied. "So this is where the great, unbeatable Harry Pearce takes his final breath? In a hovel in the middle of nowhere, with none of the young spies he has mentored and nurtured from humans into machines. You shall die alone. Lonely. Unloved."

"Not alone." Ruth snapped bravely, squeezing Harry's hand which she still held tightly in hers. "Or lonely." She said so softly, Harry wanted to kiss her right there and then. "And definitely not unloved."

Towers sighed a heavy sigh at this unwelcome display of affection, before turning to Dimitri, whose stony expression still hadn't changed as he stared dispassionately at his two former colleagues, still very much in love, even at the bitter end.

"Take them anywhere you please, and feel free to shoot on sight." Ilya told the young man, staring coldly at Harry and Ruth with owl-like eyes. "Just make sure you dispose of the bodies."

Dimitri nodded obediently, and moved round the room so that the barrel of one gun was aimed into Harry's back and the other dug into Ruth's. "Move." He told them emotionlessly, nodding towards the door through which he and Towers had come. Ruth looked towards Harry, her resolve wavering somewhat, but he flashed her an encouraging smile, squeezed her hand, and she smiled. Together, they moved past Towers, Ilya and Elena, and through the door, trying not to fear what was fast approaching.

* * *

><p>Calum frowned confusedly at the computer before him, twiddling his 'thinking pen' in between his fingers. He swiped at his keyboard skilfully to double check that the results were not a momentary blip, but he saw with discomfort that they were perfectly correct.<p>

"Erin!" he called to his female colleague across the grid.

Erin, who had been trying to feed some form of believable cover story to 'blockhead Bilberry', Harry's temporary replacement, pricked her ears up and excused herself quickly. She dashed over to Calum, checking that Bilberry was not watching her; thankfully the older man had retreated into _Harry's_ old office, sitting down in _Harry's_ chair. She was beginning to see how Harry always seemed to generate the utmost loyalty from his team towards him. When she had arrived, she had wanted to despise Harry – she saw him as a disgrace to the service and far too pompous for his own good. Yet now everything had changed, and she felt the same desire to save Harry as Ruth would do. Well, maybe not _Ruth_- that would be too excessive but perhaps… Tariq if hadn't died. And almost certainly Di.

"I've got it." Calum whispered to her as soon as she leant over his desk next to him, making sure to shield the computer from sight. "I've tracked Dimitri's phone."

She did not fail to notice that he looked distinctly uncomfortable about this, but put it down to his fear of getting bollocked by Dimitri when he found out the young technician had been tapping his phone.

"And?"

"And," Calum frowned. "Well… something seems a little off."

"What do you mean?" Erin asked, immediately on alert.

"Well for starters, his phone is at the direct centre spot between the two locations we've been checking out – the dealers where the van was stolen and where Ruth and Elena were picked up."

Erin frowned, wondering what on earth he was doing there. Could it be he was investigating without her? Had she done something wrong for him not to want to work with her? Said something wrong?

"Now, I know you're the one whose typically jumping to conclusions," Calum said quietly. "But isn't that just a little bit too coincidental for comfort?"

Erin's frown deepened, "What are you saying Cal?"

"Nothing." He said hastily. "It's just… it's a little bit weird that Dimitri goes AWOL for about five hours, supposedly with the Home Secretary – we have no idea where he is. And coincidentally he's in the same area as where all this dodgy stuff has been happening – to be precise, at the centre between those two locations."

"Are you suggesting that Dimitri's doing something… that he shouldn't be doing?" Erin demanded of her colleague, completely outraged at his lack of loyalty to their friend.

"Well I…" he looked at Erin's furious expression and sighed, "No… no of course not."

"Right well call him then," Erin snapped. "Get him back here. I don't care if he's firing pot-shots with the British Home Secretary – tell him to get his arse back on the grid."

"I can't." Calum shrugged. "His phone's turned off."

"Well surely there's something you can do," Erin practically hissed at him. "You're always saying how great you are."

Calum considered this thoughtfully, his mind finally resting on a solution. "I can hack into his phone signal. It's an MI5 special priority phone for the higher grade officers which, by the way, I'm wondering when_ I_ get to have one of those."

"Get on with it Cal!"

"Right," he said hastily, continuing with his explanation of the gadgets. "Well basically, inside all of the phones we give to Case Officers, there's a particular kind of microchip that allows us to not only track him, but also hear what he's saying."

"How exactly is that going to help us?" Erin demanded. "We want to speak to him, not listen to him – that's not very helpful."

"Ah…" Calum said proudly. "but it'll help us understand what he's doing and then we can contact those whom he's with."

"Or we could just drive down there." Erin interjected. "Which would be a lot less hassle."

"Do you really want to drive all the way down there?" he asked her. "It'd waste even more time, and besides, it's in the back end of beyond, I can tell you that."

"What do you mean?" she frowned.

"Well," Calum said, turning back to the screen and flashing up an image of what looked a miserably greyish moor, with a small run-down hut in the centre. "I certainly wouldn't choose that as my first choice of holiday destination."

Erin's eyes narrowed in confusion, "But… what the hell is he doing there?" she demanded.

"That's the point I was _trying_ to get across!" Calum said huffily, throwing his arms in the air in despair.

Erin glared at the screen before nodding, wanting to find out just exactly what was going on, "Do it."

"What?"

"Do it. Tap into his phone's microchip."

"I need authorisation to do something like that."

"I'm Section Chief, _I'm_ giving you authorisation." She snapped.

Calum rolled his eyes, and turned to the computer screen. Wondering if he was going to regret this, he let his fingers fly with practised skill across the keyboard, until he activated the microchip inside Dimitri's phone. With that, Calum plugged a divider and two sets of headphones into the computer terminal and handed a pair to Erin, placing the others on his own head. Together they listened and waited. For an instant, there was nothing – just static interference, which indicated that for the moment Dimitri was out of range. When they finally found a signal to use, and Dimitri's voice came suddenly through the headphones, they heard something that made them go cold.

* * *

><p>Harry and Ruth walked ahead in a gloomy, pitch black corridor, similar to the ones they had tried to make their escape through. Dimitri brought up the rear, the two guns pressed firmly into each of their backs. The silence was painful, particularly when all Harry wanted to do was whirl around and strangle the young officer who he and Ruth had trusted with their lives. If Dimitri had managed to maintain this charade for so long without he, an experienced spook, noticing, then the young man, like Elena, was a better spy than he ever was. Dimitri had been such a promising agent, and Harry had been sure he would emerge as one of the brightest and best, should he ever live long enough to do so. Then again, he remembered the words he had uttered to Ruth on a bench by the Thames so many years ago now, when they were discussing Tom Quinn's maverick actions – that it was always the brightest and best that went so bad, so spectacularly… so quickly. And it had been quick – Dimitri had been at MI5 for two years and he had already been spat out the other end – a mess and a terrorist. Ruth's breathing was scarily laboured; far more than was natural, and with every step her pace seemed to grow slower and more sluggish. Harry knew that she must have been awake for over 48 hours now, which was not at all healthy for a normal person, let alone a woman so close to the due date of her first child. She halted suddenly, panting for breath and clutching desperately at her large stomach.<p>

"Ruth?" he asked concernedly, but Dimitri jabbed the guns further into both their backs, causing Ruth to yelp due to the fact that her back was already so sore.

"Come on," the young man growled, in that same voice that they were both unused to. "Move."

Despite the gun sticking painfully and threateningly into his back, Harry whirled around and snapped at his ex-colleague, "She needs to stop! She's pregnant and exhausted… for God's sake man, have a bit of compassion!"

"That does not matter," Dimitri shrugged. "In a few minutes you will both be dead." "Why?" Harry demanded. "Why are you doing this Dimitri? The young man I hired two years ago wouldn't have even contemplated doing this. He was good and decent and had so much potential."

Dimitri shrugged again, "I had so much potential to become one of your lapdogs Harry." He responded coldly. "And in case you haven't noticed, all of your lapdogs ultimately end up dead."

"But this is a bit of drastic career move!" Harry growled. "Working for terrorists? Any decent man would rather die for his country than betray it."

"We don't all hold your pompous loyalty Harry." The young man said glaring at his former-boss.

"We trusted you Dimitri." Ruth said quietly once she had regained her breath and stopped doubling over in pain. "They said you only started participating in this charade a few months ago. That means you weren't in it from the start, and that means that you could still be that wonderful, loyal man who… who was my friend at a time when I thought I was most alone."

All three of them knew she was referring to the period in which Dimitri had watched over Ruth in the early stages of the pregnancy when Harry had been absent and unknowing. Although it was only a few months ago, it seemed like years previously. They had all been through so much since then.

Dimitri considered them both for an instant before shaking his head, "Don't think you'll get me that easily." He jabbed the guns in their backs for a second time, and much harder so that Ruth yet out another yelp.

"If you hurt her one more time I'll-" Harry growled, but Dimitri silenced him quickly with a sharp jab in the back.

"Like I said," the young man muttered forcing them onwards down the blackened corridor. "In a few minutes she will be dead, so it doesn't really matter what threats you make or if she's in pain."

Harry had to grit his teeth and ball his fists as they continued walking in order to stop himself from doing something he would regret. Or not, as they case may be. But then again, he was perfectly aware that he should be keeping a cool head in order to figure out a last minute plan to get he and Ruth out of the situation. The one rule he had always maintained as a spook, was to never give up, no matter how hopeless the situation. If you were to give up… well… it would be like a chicken just waltzing up to the cooker and flinging itself inside. It was a strange idea, but that was what he told himself in do or die missions.

He took a sideways glance at Ruth and saw that she also had gritted her teeth and was trying her absolute best to look defiant in the face of danger, even though he knew she was petrified. He remembered a young woman who, during an eerie exercise nearly eight years ago, had fallen apart just informing them of the symptoms of the VX gas. And now here she was, older and more mature, maintaining an almost full-term pregnancy and living off extra no sleep, yet she was absolutely marvellous. Harry a halt suddenly as he sensed fresh air whip across his face. He and Ruth soon located the source as their eyes rested on a heavy wooden door, similar in style to the room in which they had been held captive, except this time, beautifully bright daylight could be glimpsed through the cracks in the hinges and underneath the door.

Dimitri almost fell into the back of them as they stopped, but he stopped himself just in time and jabbed them with the two guns again, irritably. "Through there."

Harry could not believe that he could ever be so fortunate. If they were in the fresh air, with relatively open spaces, instead of the confining layout of a small cottage, then he and Ruth might stand a chance of getting away after all. He took a sideways glance at Ruth however, and knew that she would never make it at a run, and he thought hard. He suddenly felt the car keys of the young Russian bodyguard whom he had 'removed' jangling against the inside of his pocket as he moved forwards, and realised that that would be the escape plan. Somehow, he would disarm Dimitri, or distract him in some way, and find the car to use as an escape vehicle. It was a long shot, but it was the only plan he could manage to formulate in his tired and furious mind.

The door swung open and both Harry and Ruth gasped as the cool breeze hit them full in the front, Ruth shivering and covering her bump protectively, even though she knew it was useless to do so. They glanced around briefly, taking in the various landmarks. From what they could tell, they were on a form of grassland… a moor, and looking back at the door and cottage they had just exited, they realised it was not quite a cottage, but a small hut-like structure. Harry estimated that it had once been a barn of sorts, used perhaps to store hay in the wet weather, many years ago. Obviously, it had been rebuilt and furnished since then. Harry narrowed his eyes and memorised each landmark in detail; taking special care to surmise where the cars were. Right on cue, as Harry turned his head to the right, he glimpsed three cars parked outside the front of building, and whilst they remained at the side, it was still a long distance for Ruth to reach in a short amount of time. He would have to think of a very good distraction to keep Dimitri occupied. He briefly considered how it would be if he whirled back around and tackled the young man, retrieving both guns and shooting him instead. However, he knew that he could not do it, firstly because Dimitri was a lot younger and fitter than he was, and would probably come out on top; secondly… he was still Dimitri… the young man he had mentored for two years. Harry decided he was probably getting soft in his old age, but he still knew he would find killing the young man impossible… he might just have to settle for shooting him in the leg, or a less dangerous part of the anatomy.

"Stop." Dimitri suddenly said quietly, preventing them from moving any further around to the front of the house. "Turn around." He said coldly.

* * *

><p>Erin and Calum listened in open-mouthed horror to their headphones, as the transmission now came out quite clearly. It had not been what they were expecting. No matter what they had been expecting, it most definitely was not this. Dimitri was… was<p>

"I want answers." They heard Harry say sharply to the room aloud. "Starting with you." There was a pause in which both Erin and Calum decided he was most definitely talking to Dimitri. Erin's face had completely drained of colour, converting to a chalk-white colour, and she looked very much as if she was about to be sick. She was not reacting well to the uncovering of Dimitri's betrayal, and Calum was not doing much better, looking as if she was about to throw something across the grid. "You answer my questions and I'll…. _Consider_ giving up the gun. I'm offering no other compromise."

"Or Dimitri here can just shoot you right this minute." Ilya spoke up. Erin and Calum were growing rapidly confused as they listened to the conversation. Most of what Erin had said had been _wrong_, but in a bizarre way, it was _right_. As she had suggested, Harry and Ruth had been captured by the same people and bundled into captivity, but not at all by the people they were expecting. Ilya Gavrik had gone missing for a very different reason to how they had predicted. A very good reason. Because from what they could gather, he was an essential part of the brains behind this whole idea. He and… and the Home Secretary. Erin's mouth opened wider in horror with every sentence uttered, whilst the only thought that flashed through Calum's mind was that this was the scandal of the century. This was the biggest _terrorist threat _of the century. The British Home Secretary, the Russian ambassador and his wife, and an MI5 officer seemed to be some sort of terrorist bloc. It was quite unbelievable, and Calum would have denounced it as fake and ridiculous had he not the evidence in front of him.

"Do you think you could do it boy?" Harry was sneering at Dimitri. "Do you think you could shoot me before I shoot you? Do you honestly think you, with only a few years training, and merely a few years above a schoolboy could shoot me, before I – a soldier and MI5 officers of over thirty years – could shoot you?"

"The older you are, the frailer you are." Dimitri replied, speaking for the first time since they had started listening. Both Erin and Calum almost recoiled at the hardness and unyielding nature to his voice. It was monotonous and filled with hatred, with hardly any sense of raw humanity within it. "I was in the SBS for a number of years – don't think I can't handle something as tiny as a trigger."

"You owe us the truth." Harry was growling mutinously. "If nothing else."

"I owe you nothing." Dimitri replied.

"So being a colleague for two years means nothing to you?"

"Work is work… nothing more nothing less." Calum heard Erin inhale a deep breath in order to keep calm, but dare not look at her face, realising that she needed her privacy in this moment.

"So all that garbage about seeing Ruth as a mentor and being loyal to us-"

"Was just that," Dimitri was agreeing "Complete garbage. I think you'll find I'm quite a good actor when I want to be." For Dimitri to say something so callous and proud, as opposed to the usually loyal modest young man illustrated just how much both Erin and Calum had been taken in. Then again, neither Harry nor Ruth had noticed it.

"Why?" Harry was demanding. "Why do this? What could you possibly gain from it?"

"Money." Dimitri replied simply. "A great deal of money." Dimitri could feel Erin start to shake next to him, and wanted to comfort her in some way, knowing that this was probably one of only a few she had emotionally-invested in, only to be let down… again.

"How could you be so narrow-minded?" Harry was growling with such integrity that it evoked a warm feeling of pride for a moment within Calum. "I had such high hopes for you. You could have been one of the brightest and best."

"I think I've already proven that I'm one of the best – I was able to conceal from the great Harry Pearce that I was a double agent."

"How do you get money out of creating anarchy?" Came a familiar, softer, fainter voice. Erin literally did want to burst into tears when she heard Ruth's weak voice sound out above the others. She could hear the tiredness, and the pain and could recognise that she had been crying. She realised that she was not the only person who had put their trust in Dimitri. "All that is going to happen is that a Russian plane containing American and some Russian delegates is going to blow up." Now both Erin and Calum turned to each other with wide-eyed horror. "You're going to murder them _and_ innocent civilians as the plane crashes down, and then there is going to be no partnership as Ilya retreats in disgust. Mine and Harry's names are going to be discredited internationally and there is to be no relationship between the Russians and the English. Where in that can you possibly gain any money?"

"Money and power." Dimitri corrected her swiftly.

Calum realised his mouth was still open and shut it swiftly, "We've got to stop this." He said quickly to Erin, and the woman nodded in agreement, but it seemed impossible to drag her away from the computer. She just crouched over; frozen in the same position she had been in a quarter of an hour ago.

"What?" Harry was demanding.

"You see, with you gone, Dimitri shall continue as Head of Counter Terrorism," Towers explained. "With my help of course. He shall try with all of his might to stop the plane going down, but unfortunately he doesn't quite make it in time. But, because of his brave attempts, he shall continue on as Head of your unit."

"Oh please," he was muttering in disgust. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Of course, Ms Watts will have to be removed first… she's far too ambitious." Calum's head whirled round almost painfully to look at Erin whose skin, if it was possible, had become even whiter. "But then again, with the state of the economy… everyone is being laid off these days. And she was only installed there temporarily anyway… I think it's about time she left MI5."

"Erin." Calum said, trying to rouse her again. "I think we should get a move on."

Ruth's voice cut in again, this time stronger, and with far more anger "How dare you!" she directed at Dimitri. "How dare you be such a lying bastard as to make out that you care about her… that you love her, when all you were doing in fact was seducing her off the scent."

Erin thought back to the moments in which she had been quite awful towards Ruth when she had first taken over the grid during Harry's suspension, and felt immense guilt. She had never met as good a human being as Ruth, and here she was now, proving it. Despite her situation, she was sticking up for her against a man who had almost certainly just broken her heart. Then again, he was not the first, and no doubt, he probably wouldn't be the last.

"And not only that… there will be sizable pay-packet going into his bank balance each week. As will there be for me as well… compliments of Ilya's employers." Towers was saying.

This now seemed to be enough to rouse Erin, for she suddenly ripped off the headphones and slung them down onto Calum's desk. Calum followed suit, looking up at her, as if afraid she was about to blow up. Erin took a few moments to sort her face out, unaware that tears had been sliding softly down her cheeks for the past few minutes, before turning her expression hard.

"Come on." She said firmly to him, before whirling around on her heel, grabbing her jacket and heading towards the pods.

Calum hastily closed the programme down so that Bilberry would not go snooping around, before getting to his feet and hurtling after. "Are you okay?" he asked awkwardly, unused to being particularly emotionally supportive.

"I'm fine." She snapped in a cold voice that Calum knew was not personally directed at him. It was just a method of shutting down her emotions; something he had known her to do only too well in the past.

"Yeah, but Dimi-"

"I swear if you say that man's name right now I will throw you down the steps of Thames House." Erin told him curtly as they entered the lift to take them down to the bottom level. Calum sighed, hit the ground floor button and watched the doors closed. There was silence for a minute before he said quietly, and with rare sensitivity.

"I know you liked him."

Erin half-glanced at him, opening her mouth to release another threat before she realised that for once in his life, her young colleague was trying to be supportive. So she just nodded grimly and said, "He wasn't the first," As the lift came to a stop, the doors opened and she hurried out first. "And I'm prepared to bet he won't be the last."

Calum stumbled after her again, having quite forgotten what it was like to follow Erin in to the field when she had that fiery burn for justice in her eyes. "So what do we do first?"

"We go and stop them murdering our Section Head and our best analyst." She asserted firmly as they exited Thames House and jogged down the steps. "Then we take down Ilya Gavrik, Elena Gavrik, the British Home Secretary… and the others." She pointedly did not mention Dimitri's name, but Calum took it for granted that 'others' stood for 'Dimitri."

"On our own?" Calum demanded. "Without back-up?"

"Oh yes," Erin affirmed. "We're going to need guns. Lots of guns." For an instant, Calum thought his colleague had gone quite mad, before she continued, "Get a back-up team to meet us there. And on the way, find out what you can about this supposed blowing up of this plane. Try and get a message to the DG and the PM."

"Yeah," Calum replied sarcastically. "Because _I_ have those connections."

Erin shrugged as they stepped inside her car, Calum buckling himself in tight, because he knew that this journey would be by no means, a slow one. "If you play your cards right Cal," she said strongly, starting the engine. "You might just get a promotion that _will _enable you to have those connections."

With that, the engine revved into life, and Erin pulled out in to the road, ignoring the first red light they came across, much to the irritation of the traffic police car, parked up on the other side of the road. He was about to set off after them before he noted the black colour of the Mondeo, and the license plate behind. He then recognised the fiery young woman driving as one of the women who worked in Thames House, having seen her enter the building several times in the early mornings.

He sighed, sat back in his seat and shook his head irritably, "Bloody spooks."

**Hope you enjoyed that! The next chapter is an important one so I'll try and get that to you as soon as possible. Please review xxx :)**


	42. Chapter 42

**Here's the next installment. There's a fair bit of action and heightened emotions but hopefully you'll still enjoy it. I'm a lot happier with this chapter than my recent few and hopefully you'll like it too. Please read, review and enjoy! :)**

"Stop." Dimitri suddenly said quietly, preventing them from moving any further around to the front of the house. "Turn around." He said coldly.

As if in slow motion, Harry and Ruth angled their bodies round so that they were face to face with Dimitri, his two guns pointing threateningly at the both of them. Harry saw that the guns were directed precisely so that if he moved a muscle out of place a bullet would be fired into his heart within a split second. They would both be dead on impact which he supposed was a blessing; quick and painful if that was going to happen. He searched desperately for a method of distracting Dimitri if only for a second for him and Ruth to make their escape. Ruth thought back to the time she and Dimitri had made their way to the hospital to meet Erin and Calum, during which she had taken full advantage of her pregnancy. But then again, Dimitri would know exactly what she was doing, and besides, he wouldn't really care whether she went into labour now. It was hard to believe that it had only happened a couple of days ago now, at a time when she had still known Dimitri Levendis as a kind, loyal young man.

"Right then." Dimitri said, glancing around him with that same cold stare, as if making sure he was not about to be caught fulfilling the act of murder. His eyes caught sight of the wall in which Harry and Ruth were virtually standing against and he poked the guns in its direction. "Over there." He said firmly.

Ruth began to slowly back towards the wall, fear and anxiety gripping at her heart; Harry followed suit, but only after a long glare at Dimitri which told the young man exactly what his peer thought of him now.

"Are you really this morbid Dimitri?" Harry asked him coldly, as he saw Ruth's back hit the wall out of the corner of his eye. "Murdering us as if we're in some sort of firing line? A firing line is for criminals."

"To me, you are criminals." Dimitri said monotonously, without feeling.

"Look Dimitri," Harry said, wondering if reasoning with the young man was going to be at all effective. "Just-"

"I don't take orders from you anymore Harry," Dimitri spat at him, turning the attention of both handguns to Harry's chest. "Right now, you are the one who is taking order from me. Now move back!"

When Harry stood his ground, Ruth whimpered, knowing exactly what was going to happen to him if he kept this up for much longer. Dimitri sucked in a long, deep breath of air and yelled furiously, "I said MOVE BACK!"

To both Harry and Ruth's shock, the yell was accompanied by two very loud and terrifying gunshots, as Dimitri finally pulled the triggers of both guns, which only a second ago had been aimed at Harry's chest. Ruth let out a blood-curdling scream as the bullet whizzed past her ear and hit something… or someone. Harry had been standing directly next to her. As realisation swept through her, she quietly began to sob, turning around slowly; expecting to find Harry dead and crumpled in a heap on the muddy ground. However, her heart constricted at first with shock and then pure love and relief when she saw him standing next to her, as large as life, his eyes wide with shock. Unable to help herself, she flung herself at him, filled with utter relief that he was still here – at least for the moment. Slowly, she felt him wrap his arms tightly and protectively around her, cocooning her from the dangers they were experiencing. Ruth was so incredibly thankful for Harry's life that it took her a few seconds to actually register and interpret the look of shock that had been displayed over Harry's face. She looked up quickly and followed his wide eyes, which were staring straight ahead. Following his gaze, her eyes came to rest on Dimitri who was still clutching the two guns, one in each hand; however that awful stony, indifferent expression had almost been wiped completely from his face, to be replaced by an obvious expression of relief. Confused, Ruth looked up at Harry to see that he was as perplexed as she was, before moving her head down to look for the object that had taken the hit. Her eyes finally rested on a mutilated part of the already peeling paint of the wall behind them, and then looking southwards, an equally demolished part of the mud, tucked just underneath the wall. Yet as she strained her eyes to look more closely, she saw something she had not noticed in her panic before, as they had backed against the wall. Tucked between the muddy ground and the peeling wall was what looked like the remainders of some indistinguishable form of technology. She saw from the smashed plastic and wires that it might have once been some form of CCTV camera, before she heard footsteps behind her and hurried back around. Dimitri still had the guns clenched firmly in his fists and was approaching them fast. Ruth automatically tried to back away, however Harry was still holding her to him firmly, and together they watched as Dimitri approached. He was almost on top of them now, and Ruth wondered whether it would be a close-range shot to the head, since he had missed a few seconds previously. However just as it looked as if he was about to walk into Harry, he walked straight past him and knelt on the ground, bent just over the remains of what was probably a camera.

It took Harry a few seconds to realise that Dimitri's back was turned to them, and for an instant, he contemplated making Dimitri suffer the same fate as the guards inside the hut, however it then dawned on him that he just could not do it. Despite the young traitor putting him and Ruth through hell, he could not bring himself to Dimitri. Instead, he slowly bent his head and squeezed Ruth's arm gently to get her to look at him. He indicated with a slight jolt of the head in the opposite direction that now was the time to escape, and silently, he let his arms unwrap from around her, giving her the space she needed to run. Ruth in turn took an equally silent deep breath and nodded, filling Harry with the satisfaction he needed that she would follow his lead no matter what. Providing her with one last encouraging smile, he began to back slowly away; Ruth took on board his movements and did the same. They had only gone a few paces when Dimitri spoke quietly, still turned to the wall: "Stop."

Ruth could not help but stop, and she looked to Harry over what to do next. She saw that he too had stopped at the quietness and non-severity of the other man's words. It seemed a complete mood contrast compared with how he had been acting only minutes earlier. Something wasn't right here. Harry concentrated his gaze on the younger man's back and his eyes widened as Dimitri began to turn round. Remembering the guns in each hand, and the possibility that they would never get a golden opportunity like this again in which to escape, Harry indicated to Ruth to start backing away again – this time at a faster pace. However again, they had only moved a few steps when Dimitri said a little more urgently: "I said stop!"

This time both Harry and Ruth obeyed the order, having seen that Dimitri had fully turned around and had a perfect aim at them; they had no desire to be shot at just yet. For some reason, the younger man was now staring edgily around, as if searching for something. When he seemed satisfied, his gaze returned to Harry and Ruth, who looked back at him in confusion.

"Don't go round the front of the house," Dimitri said suddenly, in the voice the two had become accustomed to over the years. It was as if completely different person had claimed Dimitri Levendis' body for a moment back there, and now the old, somewhat less self-assured one had returned. Still, Harry was not prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt just yet. Dimitri continued, "Not yet anyway."

"If you're going to shoot us, I suggest you get it over and done with." Harry said harshly, hating it when captors used the tactic of playing mind games with their victims before killing them, in, it had to be said, a particularly brutal fashion.

Dimitri sighed and looked between them, taking in Harry's furious, but resolutely stony features, and Ruth's expression of deep hurt and betrayal. Shrugging, he re-gripped the guns properly in his hands so that each forefinger was resting on each trigger, before approaching them slowly. Harry wondered whether he had just said the right thing, and whether or no Dimitri had been having second thoughts. What if he had just ruined everything for Ruth, his unborn child, and himself? He dared not remove his gaze from the young man and the barrels of each gun, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ruth begin to shake next to him. Still staring unblinkingly at his former subordinate officer, he reached his left hand over to tightly grip Ruth's right. This would hopefully not only reassure her slightly, but also when Dimitri eventually pulled the trigger, he might be able to pull her to the ground out of the way. Dimitri was fast approaching now, reaching both arms up so that one gun was pointing at each of them, and Harry knew that the closer the young man got to them, the less likely it was that they could duck out of the way of the bullets. Dimitri was merely a few inches away from them now, guns still raised, and Ruth closed her eyes tightly waiting for the proper shot. There was no wall to save them this time. It was all over.

Yet the longer she waited, the more confused she became. No shot came. She still did not dare to open her eyes, for the last thing she wanted for her final image was the sight of a young man whom she had trusted implicitly, holding a gun to her head. But then more seconds passed. And then more… until she felt Harry squeeze her hand again and her eyes immediately flew open. Dimitri was standing directly in front of them now, with almost nose-to-nose contact, the two guns primed at both of their chests.

"Time to go." Dimitri said quietly, and Ruth whimpered slightly. Harry was about to open his mouth to react angrily when Dimitri flipped the guns over in his hands, and with expert skill, landed them so that he was only clutching the barrel end. With that, he shoved both handguns at them, one to Harry and one to Ruth, who both stared back in utter shock. Dimitri looked between them, waiting for them to take the guns that were being offered. "In a few seconds, I'm going to take these guns back, and Harry, you're going to have to disarm me. Feel free to knock me out, shoot me – though preferably in one of the less dangerous arteries – do whatever you want… the more painful… the more realistic it's going to be that I haven't just let you go free."

Harry stared open-mouthed at his colleague, trying to focus his incredibly confused mind. Eventually, he let anger overwhelm him and he seized both of the guns and swung them round into his own hands, pointing the barrels at Dimitri's chest. "Don't play mind games Levendis." He snarled. "I've had enough of it, and Ruth's certainly had enough of it."

Dimitri stared at Ruth, who rather looked as if she was about to faint at any minute, and to both her and Harry's surprise, guilt washed across his face. "I… I know. And I'm sorry… sorry about all of this really. But… there really wasn't an opportunity to tell you about-"

"Either you've got the worst case of schizophrenia I've ever witnessed, "Harry growled furiously, prodding the guns into Dimitri's chest now; his aggression causing Ruth to wince slightly. "Or you're playing the field. The question is… which side are you on?"

"Yours." Dimitri answered immediately, and Ruth swore she saw complete honesty in those eyes.

"Oh really?" Harry questioned. "Because only a few short minutes ago you were working for three people who seem intent on letting thousands of people die!"

"You have to believe me." Dimitri said genuinely.

"We don't _have_ to believe anything you say anymore boy!" Harry snarled. "A few minutes ago you were informing me of how great an actor you were because you managed to fool all of us into thinking you were on our side… which you quite obviously are not. So the question is… what's your game now?"

"There's no game." Dimitri replied calmly. "I think we can all see that this is _nothing_ like a game."

"Then you tell me why you're acting like a child, changing sides constantly according to whoever is winning."

"Except you weren't winning!" Dimitri suddenly said loudly, and with feeling, causing Harry to step back a little at the ferocity in his voice. "You weren't winning." The young man continued a little quieter. "For months, after I found out that Towers was working in league with the Gavriks' over this plan, I've been so careful not to let either side suspect anything! On the one hand if it appeared I was going to extra mile to help you out all the time then they would suspect something," he said nodding his head towards the side door of the hut. "And on the other, if I was seen to be doing anything more than assisting the Home Secretary then MI5 would catch on eventually, ruin everything I've been working towards."

"What _have_ you been working towards?" Harry asked sharply, although noticeably a little softer towards the young man. It appeared Dimitri Levendis had been far smarter, and had been taking far more risks for them either of them could have imagined. "

Dimitri swallowed, and sighed, trying to find the right words in which to explain it, "It's far too complicated to explain now."

"Try." Harry said forcefully. "Or I swear I _will _shoot you… purposely in a vital organ." It was an empty threat but Dimitri did not know that.

Instead the younger man sighed and closed his eyes. Ruth noticed not for the first time since seeing the younger man, that he looked tired… overworked. Gradually she began to calm, hoping against hope that what Dimitri was now saying was the truth.

"Okay…" Dimitri said slowly. "I was just me… ordinary Dimitri who you've known ever since you hired me last year… I promise that I was not in on it when you were attacked." He directed at Ruth who felt incredibly relieved at this confirmation. "But then you were… and… and you were in hospital, and shortly after you were both dismissed from the service. I'd been doing the work you'd given me – to keep an eye on the Gavriks' and then Towers singled me out… thought I might be useful in a more skilled form of work… and pretty soon I'd managed to wangle my way into the group. It didn't take me long to realise that Towers was as bent as they come, and the Gavriks' were… well… more than they were letting on. Ever since then I've sort of been a… a one man show… undercover… trying to figure out a way of stopping this plot."

"Well you're doing a good job of it." Harry snapped sarcastically. "In less than 48 hours thousands of people are going to be killed when a Russian plane, containing American and Russian delegates blows up over London. And how far have you got to stopping it?"

Dimitri sighed, "It's a technicality… I'd find a way… if necessary I'd have confessed all to Erin and Calum."

"So they didn't know?" Harry asked with some relief.

"No." Dimitri responded. "They didn't have a clue what I was doing. Besides I… I didn't want to put them in anymore danger than was necessary... Tariq had already been killed."

By 'them', Ruth knew he meant Erin, and she felt herself begin to soften towards the young man again. She could see the honesty in his eyes; a far more realistic look than the stony, almost robotic expression he had been portraying fifteen minutes ago. He genuinely seemed to care about Erin after all.

"The PM has no idea what's going on… for once the Home Secretary and PM aren't huddled together in this plot… it's just Towers and the Gavriks'. I had planned to get a message to the PM before it happened, but then I realised their plan to use the both of you – only a couple of days ago. So I had to improvise." He looked towards Ruth who was looking much calmer now, and much softer towards him. "I really am sorry if I've added any more stress." He said genuinely. "I've had to-"

"How do we know we can trust you?" Harry demanded. "I've heard more convincing stories that have turned out to be fake in my time."

Dimitri shrugged, "You don't." he admitted. "But I gave you the guns to try and put across my argument, and… well… right now I'm you're only hope."

Even Harry had to admit that the younger man had a point, but he still could not bring himself to trust him completely. Instead he nodded grimly and tested him, "So what's your almighty plan then?"

Dimitri almost sighed with relief that he was now being believed before he launched into his explanation, "The reason for me bringing you round here was that there's only one camera, so that if anyone was watching… well… they aren't anymore – they'll just think it's a stray bullet... that I'm nervous… you were after all my colleagues once. When we go round the front of the house, I'll have the guns back for a short time, but then you're going to have to do something to disarm me."

"What?" Ruth asked, speaking for the first time since Dimitri's revelation. She sounded rather hoarse, but a lot calmer than before. Dimitri could not help but smile softly at her.

"Whatever you like. If I don't know what's coming than it's a lot more realistic."

Harry narrowed his eyes, "Is this really necessary? How do we know Towers and the Gavriks' will actually be watching?"

"Oh they will." Dimitri said assuredly. "I expect they want to know if they can completely trust me."

"What about all the time we've wasted round here?" Ruth chipped in. "Won't they suspect you for that?"

Dimitri shrugged, "They said I get to dispose of you with whatever method I wish to use. If I want to shout insults at you for ten… fifteen minutes, then I can."

"You shot out the camera," Ruth pointed out, now on top analyst form, and Harry could not help but smile proudly. "They're not going to take kindly to that."

"I'll improvise." Dimitri said firmly. "Something I've been having to do a lot lately. For instance, I knew they were going to kill you… I just didn't know they were going to have me do it… it's just in your fortunes that I was the one chosen."

"Isn't that suspicious?" Ruth asked anxiously. "What if they chose you on purpose because they already suspect you? What if this was to test you?"

"Then I'll deal with it." Dimitri informed her gently. "It's my problem… I've got myself into this… I can get myself out of it."

Harry narrowed his eyes at his ex-subordinate. Either this youngster was an exceptionally good actor, or he was telling the truth. The affection in Dimitri's eyes for Ruth seemed absolutely genuine, and for once, he could not help but hope himself that Dimitri was actually on their side.

"In my pocket are car keys," Dimitri informed them. "If you can manage to get those then-"

"Already got some," Harry told him, remembering the keys in his pocket, which had been stolen from one of the now dead guards. "From one of those men."

Dimitri raised his eyebrows, but was well aware that they did not really have much time, and so he didn't bother asking how the car keys had come into their possession. He had a pretty good idea anyway. "Right." He nodded, before digging into his pocket and pulling out a mobile phone and handing it to Ruth, due to the fact that Harry's hands were still full with both guns. "When you get away, you can contact me on this." Harry and Ruth exchanged glances that told Dimitri all. "I know you still probably don't trust me but… it's the only chance you've got right now. When you get away they're probably going to put warnings out to every form of authority in the country… you'll be on the top of London's most wanted."

"For what?" Ruth demanded. "We haven't done anything."

"No," Dimitri agreed. "But they have the Home Secretary on their side – Harry after all is allegedly an escaped criminal, wanted for killing Coaver and Willard, and Ruth," he looked awkwardly at her. "They'll probably want to drag you down with him simply because… well…" his eyes landed briefly on her protruding stomach, and she subconsciously placed a protective hand over her bump. She merely nodded, but only a glance told Harry that she was afraid. She had been on the top of London's most wanted before and it had culminated in her being exiled from the country for three long years, followed by – in her view – their part in the death of George, whom Harry had to grudgingly admit sounded like a good man, who would have done anything for Ruth. He had never really asked her about her exile from the country; where she went, the people she met other than George and Nico – it had always been a rather sore topic. But he could tell by her miserable expression that on the whole it had not been a pleasant experience, and he felt immense guilt washing over him in enormous waves. She had been in trouble once before through her trying to protect him from corrupt Government agents; he had done the same thing to her only years later – except this time, she was pregnant with his child, at almost full-term.

Harry also knew the conditions and procedures for being on the run, particularly from a corrupt Home Secretary and Russian terrorists; that would mean constant hiding, the need to never stay in one place too long, and lack of money. If Dimitri was indeed telling the truth, which Harry prayed to the lord he was, then if they escaped, they would have virtually nowhere to run to, and undoubtedly, their banks accounts would be being watched – hence they couldn't take out money without being found. And the consequences of being found would clearly be something to the effect of what they had already experienced, except they would probably be dead an awful lot quicker. He looked back to Ruth's exhausted, downcast face and demanded of himself why he always seemed to put this poor woman in terrible danger. She was an innocent, someone who didn't deserve any of this. And despite the action of consummating their love for each other nearly nine months ago – something which by right should have been a happy occasion – had led to, at times, extreme peril for her. In effect, she was being punished for loving him, and that, Harry knew, was just not fair.

As these thoughts passed through his tired mind, Dimitri continued , nodding at the phone he had given Ruth, "On there is a network of old MI5 safe houses – all of the ones that are unknown to the Government, and in particular, Towers. No one would find you."

"Unless you're lying to us." Harry said, although without realising it, he had completely lowered the guns to his sides.

"I promise you I'm not," Dimitri said quietly. "Besides, there's hundreds of places on that list, and it'd take us ages before we could actually find you."

"CCTV cameras?" Harry suggested.

"All are either without them, or they're disabled."

Harry had to admit that if Dimitri was telling the truth, than his level of improvisational skills was off the scale.

"Couldn't someone track us with this?" Ruth asked both Dimitri and Harry, holding the phone in her hand like it was about to explode.

"No," Dimitri assured her. "It's a completely clean phone. When you're safely away, you can contact me. There's only one number on there," he said nodding towards the mobile. "And that's the one to my operational phone – no one has that number except me, Erin and Calum."

"Calum?" Ruth asked dubiously, wondering whether the sarcastic young man could be trusted with operational phone numbers.

"It'll be okay." She looked up as this time it had not been Dimitri attempting to reassure her – it was Harry. He looked back at her with such a gentle, tender gaze that she suddenly felt rejuvenated with the strength she needed to get out of there. She nodded once and Harry smiled softly back at her.

"You can contact me on that number when you're safely away. If you don't want me to find you I'll respect that. But I understand that you'll want the truth and the full story of this at a time when matters are a little less urgent. And if you need anything…" he trailed off, leaving the offer open.

Both Harry and Ruth knew they were taking a big risk in trusting this man now, but they knew they had little choice. It was either that suffer the fate of being shot on the spot. Slowly they nodded; an unspoken agreement between the two of them and their ex-colleague. Dimitri held his hands out for the guns, which Harry passed to him a little reluctantly. The young man then whirled them round in his hands so that he had his fingers on the triggers, and placed them in the centre of Harry and Ruth's backs. Once he had amended his facial expression to stony and indifferent, he told them quietly to move around the front of the house, in to the sight of the cameras.

* * *

><p>"Back-up team are on their way," Calum said quickly to Erin as they sped along the motorway at a speed that vastly exceeded the speed limit. He disconnected the call and shoved the phone back into the breast pocket of his blazer. When Erin did not reply, he looked over at her and to his horror and discomfort, he saw fat tears rolling slowly down her cheeks.<p>

"Erm… Erin?" he asked hesitantly after an incredibly awkward silence. Again, she did not answer him, creating yet more discomfort on Calum's part. There must have been a silence of about thirty seconds before he tentatively asked, "Are… are you okay?"

"Fine." She snapped suddenly with such ferociousness that Calum almost jumped back wards in his seat. "I'm fine. I'm always fine."

Calum shifted uncomfortably and focused his gaze on the road ahead, choosing not to notice Erin's hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles were turning chalk white. "Erm… o… okay." He said eventually, not really knowing what to say to her. He had never been any good at comforting people, and he was especially useless at comforting crying, hysterical women – that much had been proved when Ruth had broken down on the grid.

The satnav on the dashboard indicated for them to take a sharp right turn, which Erin did with such zealousness that Calum almost collided with her as the car turned. His first reaction was to open his mouth to protest, before he remembered not to push Erin too far – the consequences would undoubtedly be catastrophic.

* * *

><p>All three of them played their parts very well – Dimitri maintained the harsh, indifferent personality he had embodied inside the building, shouting warnings to them each time either Harry or Ruth dared to stop. Ruth was panting and holding her baby bump tightly as she walked, portraying the look of utter exhaustion, although both Dimitri and Harry suspected that this was quite natural. Harry meanwhile snapped back at Dimitri when he told them to line up in front of the building.<p>

"What's the use of shooting us out here?" He demanded with convincing anger, mainly because it was partly true. "What's that going to achieve? Someone could see you?"

"Because here," Dimitri improvised grotesquely. "When I've disposed of you, we could have the option of burying you here, under the moor."

Ruth let out a whimper, clutching her baby bump tightly, and feeling the phone Dimitri and given her just underneath her top. It was extremely convincing, especially to Towers and the Gavriks', who were indeed studying the cameras closely. The fact that she looked like she was about to faint only added to the effect; Harry was genuinely scared that she was going to collapse. She was as white as a sheet – the day having taken its toll on her – and she had not slept in approaching 48 hours.

"You've missed once," Harry snapped harshly, for the benefit of those who may be watching and listening, and who might be suspicious of Dimitri shooting out that camera. "You've missed once due to nerves." He stepped towards the young man now, and Ruth could tell Harry was about to put the plan into action. "That tells us you still feel some degree of loyalty towards us."

"I have no loyalty to you whatsoever." Dimitri replied with that same blank look in his eye, whilst Harry and Ruth marvelled at his acting skills. At least, they hoped he was acting. "Call it a brief lapse into my old-self. It'll be different this time, I can promise you that." He smiled nastily. "The question is, which to kill first…"

Harry continued to step slowly towards the young man, "Don't shoot Ruth, Dimitri. Remember all that we've been through together on the grid… remember you taking care of her when she first found out she was pregnant…"

"I've made my choice." Dimitri said firmly. "Now alternatively, I could shoot both of you together… I do after all have two guns."

"Stop being so… sadistic!" Harry snapped, genuinely scared by the playful manner in which Dimitri was talking about killing them. "Let Ruth go… she's done nothing wrong."

"You and I both know that's not an option." Dimitri asserted, whilst Harry took steps ever closer to him. To make it completely realistic, Dimitri pushed one gun forwards so that it was only inches away from Harry's chest. "If I were you, I would stay where you are Harry."

"You wouldn't shoot us Dimitri…"

"Oh I would." Dimitri said nastily. "And I think there's been quite enough talk." He nodded to where Ruth was standing, now only just managing to prop herself upright against the wall. "Go and stand next to Ruth… I'd better get it over and done with… she looks like she could do with it being quick and painful."

Internally, Dimitri detested himself for the things he was saying, and a part of him wanted nothing more than to run over to Ruth and help her, for she did genuinely look on the verge of collapse. Harry did not dare look back at Ruth for if he did, he knew that he would go to her side and not follow through with the agreed plan. Instead, he stepped forwards slowly, "Look at what you're doing Dimitri… look at what you've become."

"You Harry Pearce." Dimitri scoffed convincingly. "Trying to appeal to my better nature. Surely you know better than that. Stand next to Ruth." Dimitri said firmly.

"No." Harry said stubbornly.

"H… Harry." He heard Ruth whimper in the background, and he didn't know whether she was playing the part, or genuinely in trouble. He looked intensely into Dimitri's eyes and they both knew they had to hurry the plan up.

"Fine." Dimitri said indifferently. "Have it your way." He looked at Ruth. "Say goodbye to your precious Harry Pearce…" Ruth let out another whimper, and as Dimitri pretended to focus his attention on Ruth for that instant, Harry lunged forwards with surprising energy, and flung Dimitri to the ground. As they did so, Dimitri squeezed the trigger, although purposely aimed the gun upwards so that it looked as if it only just missed Harry. As soon as they got to the ground, Harry did as Dimitri instructed and fought realistically. His automatic response was to punch the young man in the face, which he did with success. Dimitri grunted as Harry's fist collided with his cheek and then nose; for a split second, Dimitri genuinely did loosen his grip on one of the guns and Harry seized the opportunity, snatching it out of his hand and aiming it quickly at his head.

"You thought you could shoot me boy?" Harry demanded convincingly, panting after his exerting efforts. "Frankly you're an amateur, and I'm quite ashamed I employed you."

Blood was now trickling down from Dimitri's nose, and Harry wondered whether he had broken it. He had no time for such thoughts however as Dimitri pretended to raise the second gun, which Harry caught quickly and shoved his own gun against the young man's temple.

"Don't even think about it Levendis." He snarled, grabbing the other gun and getting to his feet away from Dimitri. Little did they know that Ilya Gavrik, at seeing the proceedings, was dashing towards the scene outside. They had very little time.

Harry held Dimitri at gunpoint, even as the young man tried to get to his feet, spitting blood as it fell thickly from his nose. "Stay where you are." Harry snapped harshly. "I warn you… after the extenet of your betrayal… I won't be afraid to shoot you."

"Do… it then." Dimitri panted convincingly.

Harry snorted, "Don't challenge me!" He looked round, pretending to spot the cars and it suddenly occurred to him that there were three – not only had they got to get away, but they had to find the right car.

"Ruth," he called. "Come on… we've got to go."

When there was no response, Harry looked behind him and the his heart almost stopped. Ruth had genuinely collapsed, lying on her side where she had fallen, her hand still clutched firmly across her abdomen; where she had stowed away the phone. Without a second thought Harry tore towards her, careful to keep one gun trained on Dimitri, who was just about coming round to his senses after such a violent punch.

With the other hand, Harry rolled her gently over onto her back, and studied her face anxiously. For all he knew, she could be performing spectacularly. Alas, she was completely unconscious, and Harry feared, rather ill. "Ruth." He said to her loudly and desperately, shaking her as gently as he could manage in his panic. "Ruth come on, we've got to move."

Despite his own worry, Dimitri convincingly took a step towards Harry, as if to tackle him, but Harry whirled around again, "One more move boy and I will kill you, I promise you."

In a split decision, and ignoring the desperate protests from his back and shoulders, Harry lifted Ruth into his arms, trying not to notice the additional weight from the pregnancy, and began to head over to the first one of the cars. The gun was only just being kept in aim with his right hand; the position awkward from carrying Ruth. But there was not a chance in hell that he was leaving her. Dimitri ran behind him, looking as if he was about to tackle him, making Harry genuinely wonder whether he was in on the plot after all, when he suddenly stopped and turned. To Harry's horror, Ilya Gavrik was exiting the house and dashing as fast as he could towards them, his own gun trained on Harry.

"Oh shit!" Harry swore, ducking just in time as a bullet fired past him and Ruth. Unfortunately, with the addition of Ruth's weight, Harry lost balance and toppled to the ground, where Dimitri, to keep up the act pounced on him, snatching at one of the guns. As he did, Dimitri managed to pull the trigger and in the aftermath of the sound and brawl, Dimitri managed to cover both Harry and Ruth, shielding them from Ilya's aim. Yet the older Russian was approaching ever faster, and they were still not in the car. In a last ditch attempt to add some credibility to their fight, Harry aimed another shot, just above Dimitri's shoulder blade, so that the bullet swept past the young man, grazing his shoulder. Dimitri howled out in genuine pain, whilst Harry forced himself to his feet, with Ruth still in his arms, tugging the car keys he had previously taken, out of his pocket.

It was almost coincidental, but a massive relief, that the first car he tried was the right one, and Harry unlocked the doors, placing Ruth as gently as he could into the back seat, before slinging himself into the driver's seat, and starting the car. He had in the process, dropped one of the guns, which Dimitri, despite his injury, did his best to keep up appearances, and he picked it up. With his unharmed left arm, he lifted the gun at the car as Harry sped off down the moor, and fired. He managed to hit the left wing mirror with superb accuracy, just as Ilya reached him. The older man was panting and was looking extremely ruffled; an unsuitable look for him. He took one look at Harry now speeding, completely unreachable into the distance.

"You fool!" Ilya spat angrily at the wounded young man. "You just let them get away!"

Dimitri closed his eyes and seized his shoulder in agony, before turning back to the cars, "I'll get after them!"

"You've done enough," Ilya snapped grimly. "Besides… if you people see you like that, our cover will be blown."

"I'm… I'm sorry." Dimitri panted, as blood soaked against the shoulder of his shirt. He was not exactly shot, and he supposed he should be grateful to Harry for merely scraping his shoulder blade, but it still bloody hurt.

Ilya sighed and shook his head, "No matter," he said grimly, and Dimitri knew that they had gotten away with it. "They won't get far, especially if Ms Evershed's condition is anything to go by. They'll probably go to a hospital. We'll get you sorted out, and William can issue a warning to every hospital nearby."

Dimitri swallowed, praying that after all of this effort, Harry would not let his worry for Ruth cloud his sense and judgement.

**There you go... I hope you've enjoyed that. Now, I wouldn't really make Dimitri evil... he's been Ruth's loyal protector and I sort of fell in love with him! ;) But erm... Erin and Calum don't know he's been playing double agent... 'There may be trouble ahead...'. Also, is Ruth alright? A little HR tenderness ahead? Please review and let me know what you think :)**


	43. Chapter 43

**Thank you for all of your encouraging reviews! Here's a shorter one - it's only shorter because it was originally part of a long chapter, but it really was too long to post altogether, so I thought I'd break it up. I'll post the other half of the chapter soon. People seemed to like the idea of some HR tenderness... the beginnings of some here, but there's a great deal more in the next chapter. This is pretty much a filler, but I hope you like it anyway? :) Please read and review xxx**

Harry careered down the motorway, not caring that he was probably nearing double the correct speed limit. Every so often, he checked the right wing mirror – due to the fact that Dimitri had shot off the left – for any sign that they were being followed. It was to his vast relief as he repeated the same procedure for a fifth time that they were not. Dimitri had kept true to his word and let them get away; the question was, if he was indeed trustworthy, would he be able to keep Towers and the Gavriks' off their tails until they could find a secure place to hide. He knew that one of the first things they would do, or rather, one of the first things Towers would do – with him having the Government at his fingertips, would issue a warrant for their arrest, and put out a warning to stop the very car he was driving. That meant he had to ditch it as soon as possible.

He looked concernedly in his rear view mirror at Ruth, who was still slumped across the back seat, looking very white, very ill and completely exhausted. He could not help but panic as he saw her unresponsive face begin to produce beads of sweat and he suspected that she was contracting a fever. Harry prayed with all his might that she was just exhausted; that it was a culmination of the horrific events from the past few days, and not something seriously wrong. He tried to think back to the events in the farmhouse – had anyone done anything to her to get her into this appalling state? Admittedly, she had not slept in days, and her due date was looming ever closer, but even with that – could that cause her to collapse? Not only that, but she had been held captive in a freezing cold underground room for who knows how long before he arrived – could that be a possible reason? Harry studied her head wound, which had been issued when the men had taken her. The blood was now drying and sticky; only adding to the effect of the muck and grime from the underground rooms, which was still smeared all over her face, hands and clothes. As he dared to keep his eyes off the road long enough to look at her properly, he registered that her face and neck held several small cuts, which presumably had been supplied when the men had snatched her. Was the collapse an after-effect of the head wound she had been given, and if it was, did that mean she was in serious danger? His heart began to beat exceptionally fast as the panic accelerated even more. Harry did not think he could take it if something were to happen to Ruth, or indeed if something was wrong with the baby, especially after they had just successfully escaped. He fought the overwhelming urge to take her to the nearest hospital – that way, he would know what was wrong and they could perhaps help Ruth. Yet the trained spook side of him knew perfectly well that one of Towers' first actions would be to get a warning out to the hospitals. If Ilya Gavrik had come out to assist Dimitri, then that meant that as suspected, he, Elena and Towers had been watching the whole things through the cameras. And that also meant that they had seen Ruth's collapse, and knew his first instinct would be to get her some aid. As awful as the prospect was to him, Harry knew that they had to journey on. It had cost them so much effort to get away, not least Dimitri, whom Harry felt had taken the shot near the shoulder exceptionally bravely. If they were caught again then they almost certainly would die, and he would not risk that a second time.

When he heard a slight whimper from the back seat, his eyes shot to the rear view mirror again, hoping to see Ruth waking up. Instead, she was still fully unconscious, a pained expression drifting over her damp face; her hand clamping against her stomach. Harry could not force himself onwards anymore, and spotting a convenient side road, he pulled off the motorway, driving for another mile or so before he spotted an alcove, almost hidden away by assorted leaves and bracken. He breathed a sigh of relief and pulled up out of sight. Hastily turning the ignition off, Harry clambered out of the front seat, and closed the door firmly behind him, before opening the back. He moved her more gently now as opposed to the way he had almost flung her inside during their escape, in order to make room for him in the back seat. Struggling because of the size of her baby bump, he managed to manoeuvre her into a position where her head was resting in his lap.

One touch was all it took for him to confirm that she had indeed developed a fever. He did not know where from or how, but it was certainly a fever – her forehead felt as hot as fire, and her skin had become clammy and chalk white in colour.

"Oh sweetheart." He whispered miserably, his voice filled with emotion at the prospect of her contracting something now; when they were so close to being okay.

Regardless of how painfully hot her skin was against his cool hand, he gently stroked her forehead and hair; tenderly pressing occasional kisses to her face and hands. Whilst he was trying to restore his thoughts in to some sort of order so that he could figure out what to do in general, but mostly how he could help her without handing themselves into the authorities, he heard Ruth whimper again. He looked down into her sleeping face which was contorting in fear as she fought internal battles within her still very real and existent nightmares. Trying to gauge some sort of reaction from the baby, he slid his left hand away from where he had been cradling her, and down to her bump, rubbing it gently. It was then his fingers came into contact with hard plastic and it suddenly came back to him that Dimitri had handed Ruth the phone. They had within their possession a list of safe houses which they could get to, and from the looks of Ruth, it had to be one pretty nearby. If he was going to tackle her fever himself, then he was at least going to need to get her into a comfortable bed, a change of clothes from the filthy, damp ones she was currently wearing, and lots of food and water. His hand was still resting absent-mindedly on her protruding stomach when he felt an enormous kick vibrate against his hand, and he could have laughed with relief. At least he knew the baby was okay, and in all likelihood, that probably meant that Ruth was going to be okay as well, provided he got some food into her and the baby. He felt a little more strong now in his belief that she was just incredibly exhausted, and he kissed her forehead softly again. It was still boiling hot but he had newly rekindled hope. Gently he lifted her blouse ever so slightly and pulled out the phone which she had successfully kept smuggled for the duration of the escape. She whimpered again as the cool skin of his hands caught her warm stomach, and he hushed her gently, rocking her against him with one hand as the other skilfully flicked through the phone Dimitri had given them. To his incredible relief he found a safe house that was within a ten mile radius of where they were currently parked. He was satisfied that if they were to be found, it was not the closest to where they had escaped from, and indeed, it was actually quite far away, causing Harry to realise that he had actually driven some way before they had stopped. Before he placed the phone into his own now rather grimy trouser pocket, he double-checked the entry codes to the safe house, and its details. Provided he didn't get lost on his way there, through his panic for Ruth, they would arrive at the house in just less than twenty minutes, which seemed like the past course of action. He stroked and tried to cool Ruth's clammy cheeks for a few more seconds before deciding he would need to get to the house pretty sharpish. There would be time to take care of her properly later, and so he slowly manoeuvred himself out of the back seat before turning to settle Ruth gently and firmly so that she was now lying straight across the seats. Placing one last kiss to her forehead, Harry closed the back door firmly and threw himself into the front, starting the ignition once again. Within seconds he was speeding towards his intended destination, praying that he had made the right choice.

* * *

><p>Erin and Calum sat in complete silence as they zoomed straight down the motorway; they were approaching their destination with great speed now, and Calum could not help but feel a little nervous at what was going to happen when Erin eventually caught Dimitri out. In one journey, her emotions had ranged from anger, to sorrow, to denial and then finally anger again, and he was very wary that sitting in her back pocket was a fully loaded handgun.<p>

They both jumped however when they heard the distinct sound of a phone going off, and Erin tutted irritably. With one hand on the steering wheel, she reached her other into her jacket pocket and pulled out her ringing phone, handing it to Calum to answer. He was about to refuse when he caught the look on her face, and he hastily took it. Checking the caller ID, he tutted loudly to himself, and turned to Erin.

"It's Bilberry."

"If he wants to know where we are… well, don't tell him." Erin replied firmly. "We don't know how far this goes. He was appointed to cover for Harry, by Towers, so in all likelihood he must be in on it as well. Don't let on to him that we know what's going on."

Calum nodded grimly and pressed the answer button, placing the phone to his ear, "Sir." He said with a little too much emphasis. Even Blockhead Bilberry, a man not known for his intelligence, could hear the sarcasm in the younger man's voice.

"Where the hell are you?" Bilberry asked aggressively. "And why are you answering Miss Watts' phone?"

"Because I've currently got her tied up, gagged and have nicked off with her phone." Calum muttered sarcastically.

"What?" Bilberry demanded furiously.

"Nothing." Calum replied quickly.

"This is no time for your antics Mr Reed," Bilberry growled. "Where are you?"

Calum swallowed as he fought to come up with a believable excuse, "We're… we're on our lunch break."

"At six o'clock in the evening?" Bilberry scoffed.

"Erm…" Calum said, thinking fast. "It's a liquid lunch."

"Well get your arses out of the pub and get back here." Bilberry snapped. "New events have come to light."

"Such as?"

"A warrant has been issued for the arrest and immediate custody of Harry and Pearce and Ruth Evershed."

Calum sighed, and quickly turned Erin's phone onto the loudspeaker setting so that they could both here the conversation.

"I… I know Harry's already escaped from the Americans, but what's Ruth got to do with this?"

"They were in on it together," Bilberry said, and both Calum and Erin exchanged furious looks, knowing they were being fed a huge pack of lies. "They met up, tried to kidnap Minister Gavrik and his wife, and the Home Secretary."

"Wh… What?" Calum asked, wondering how people could come up with such garbage in exchange for the truth. They did not know whether to feel happy or not that there had been a warrant issued for Harry and Ruth's arrest, because that must mean that they were no longer within Towers and the Gavriks' grasp, which meant that somehow… they had ingeniously escaped. "Why would they do that?"

"Don't ask me what's going through their heads at the moment." Bilberry snapped. "Not only did they try to do this but two people were killed as well. They killed Harry's escort to the American facility – Vincent Delloy, and they murdered Anatoly Dubrovsky, a Russian associate of Minister Gavrik's son, Sasha."

For once, both Erin and Calum knew that this could not possibly be anything else but true. If Ruth was in danger, they were left with no doubt that Harry would protect her in any way he could. Plus, if Ruth had told him that they were two of the people who attacked her… well… the evidence spoke for itself.

"So they're both up for a murder charge?" Erin asked urgently, whilst still trying to maintain concentration on the road ahead.

"Not just _a _murder charge – it includes the murders of Jim Coaver, Joseph Willard, Vincent Delloy and Anatoly Dubrovsky."

"It was never proven that Harry was responsible for murdering Willard." Erin objected.

"Well it's being brought to the forefront now, and it's been decided he must be the culprit."

"Oh come on Carl," Erin snapped. "That's scapegoating and you know it is."

"Personally I feel now sympathy at all towards them… they kidnapped the British Home Secretary and the Russian Ambassador and his wife, threatened to kill them; killed two people and then escaped. The car they've escaped in has been plastered all over the TV, the radio, police stations… hopefully we'll catch them before they can do any more damage."

"Come on Carl," Erin scoffed. "Think about it… what motive could they possibly have?"

"I don't know and quite frankly," Bilberry growled. "I don't care… as long as they're apprehended."

"It's not long until Ruth's baby is due." Erin said desperately.

"Yes," Bilberry said harshly. "But it didn't stop her in aiding a murderer and kidnapper did it?"

"Ruth would never hurt or kill anyone." Calum said, surprised at the protectiveness in his voice.

"Enough objections, you two!" Bilberry snapped. "If I don't have your full support in this then you'll be out on your ear!" he sighed. "At least Mr Levendis has proved his worth."

Erin froze, and Calum glanced hastily at her, "What?"

"He was the one who stopped them killing the Home Secretary and the Gavriks'." He said. "He drove them off to escape. Got himself shot in the process."

"Is… is he okay?" Erin asked, surprised that she actually cared after everything Dimitri had done.

"He's being treated at St Anne's infirmary – minor injuries. He says he'll be back on the grid as soon as he can to help find Harry and Ruth."

"I bet he will." Calum muttered.

"What was that?" Bilberry snapped.

"Nothing." Calum answered quickly. He caught Erin's eye, "We're going back now sir… we… we might give Dimitri a lift to the grid on the way."

Erin nodded briskly and swerved round with such ferocity that Calum almost smacked his head against the roof of the car. He disconnected the call and turned to Erin.

"Hospital?" he asked.

"Hospital." She agreed firmly.

* * *

><p>Harry stumbled towards the door of the safe house, Ruth's weight inhibiting his movement slightly; with great difficulty, he typed in the code to let them in, followed by a rank number Dimitri had helpfully provided. It was the authorisation code of some less senior officer from what Harry could tell, but at least they would be reasonably safe here, and unsuspected. Then again, he thought as the door snapped open, at some point he would have to dispose of the car – if anyone saw it then their cover would be blown. At the present time, he had hidden it in a clump of bushes, similar to the ones they had parked in, on that little side road before. It would only take a storm or a windy night to reveal the car. Still, his main focus right now was Ruth, and he shouldered open the door, carrying her into the building before closing it firmly behind him.<p>

It was not exactly warm inside; Harry suspected he would have to venture around the place in order to find the various heat sources, although he was rather doubtful as to whether they would actually work. There was a distinct musty smell in the air, as if the house had not been used in years, or at least had not been paid attention to in the recent months. The most distinguishing factor about it was that it was a bungalow; this was only an added bonus for Harry as he carried Ruth through the connecting rooms in search of a soft, comfortable bed to put her in, for he rather thought that if he had to carry her up a flight of stairs, his back would finally give out. His search at least gave him satisfaction that they were entirely alone; that this was not some sort of elaborate trap, and that there was someone here waiting for them. Indeed, whilst journeying through the kitchen, he saw at a glance that the table was almost covered in a light coat of dust, indicating that his suspicions were right – that no one had lived there for a very long time.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he found the bedroom at the very back of the house. It was only a very simple layout, but then what did he expect from a lesser known MI5 safe house. In the centre of the room stood an average-sized double bed, layered with an invitingly comfortable white duvet and pillows, whilst surrounded by one wardrobe, a plain mahogany bedside table and a cheap, scratchy blue carpet. The furniture did not exactly go correctly with the bare white walls and navy blue carpet, and Harry suspected the vast majority of it had come fresh from bargain car boot sales, but it would do just fine for their situation. Breathing heavily with the effort of keeping Ruth in his arms after quite a while of carrying her, he eased her gently onto the bed. He took a moment to straighten his poor aching back, ignoring the brief spasms of pain that were generated as he did so, before he returned to the task at hand. Holding her gently against his chest, he eased the duvet out from underneath her and placed her in the centre of the mattress, making sure her head was now resting securely against the pillow. He debated whether or not to cover her with the duvet, bearing in mind she had a ghastly fever, however he eventually decided that it might be better to sweat it out, rather than make it worse by having her catch a cold. The whimpers of anxiety from her nightmares hurt Harry internally every time, and he wished he could do something more useful to help her. He considered waking her up, but then he wondered whether she would actually wake up whilst the fever raged – maybe this was her body's way of ensuring she actually got plenty of rest and sleep. And what was more, he thought it better that she was unconscious whilst he tried to get her back to normal temperature, rather than awake and suffering. Vowing he would do everything he could to help her and the baby, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead and lips before moving away from the bed towards the wardrobe. He for one felt grimy and unclean, and he knew that once Ruth was a little better they would both need a shower and a clean set of clothes. Ideally, he would prefer his own clothes, and amongst his thoughts, he thought of his house, his own bedroom... Scarlett. He hoped someone was looking after her; perhaps Dimitri might… if he could find her. Scarlett was naturally the dog of a spy, hence why she had managed to frighten Ruth that time in the kitchen – she was not at all noticeable unless she wanted to make her presence felt. In essence, the little dog could look after herself, but it still did not stop him from feeling bad over her welfare.

He opened the door of the wardrobe and was relieved to find a few bits and bobs hanging there. There were a few shirts which Harry guessed he would have to sift through to find one of his size, but that wouldn't be much of a problem. The main difficulty was finding something clean for Ruth to where, considering how large her baby bump had become. Lately they had taken to ordering maternity clothes from online stores via the internet, because Ruth had wanted to venture out of the safety of his house very little. He glanced at the few female clothes, knowing there and then that they would all be too small for her – not that he would admit this to Ruth for fear of her believing he thought her fat. There was a difference between being overweight and being pregnant. A big and wonderful difference, he thought smilingly, glancing back over at Ruth and her baby bump. Sighing, he decided that his only option would be to wash the clothes she was currently wearing, but then it hit him that even if he did find her something to wear, he would have to invade her privacy and undress her whilst she was still unconscious… without her permission. He could imagine how horrified and ashamed she would be if he even attempted something like that, so he eventually resolved that it would be better to simply try and get her fever down, and wait for her to come around so she could decide for herself. Striding silently back over to her sleeping form, he placed his right hand over her forehead gently to check if her temperature was getting any worse. She was virtually boiling hot now, with sweat visibly rolling off her forehead and down on the pillows.

"You hang in there Ruth." He told her gently, well aware that she could not hear him. He just felt the need to say something blandly reassuring; although whether it was to her or himself, he wasn't too sure. Even though she was warmly wrapped up in the bedclothes, he placed his other hand on her bump and said sternly, "That means you too little one… your mum and I fought like warriors to get you out of there safely… so no giving up on us now, understand?"

Had his ex-subordinates on the grid seen him talking to Ruth's stomach, then they may well have thought he was quite mad, or at the very least, laughed like hell, but Harry wouldn't have cared. The only thing he cared about at that moment was the woman and unborn child lying in the bed in front of him. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he straightened up again, knowing that he would have to find the kitchen and bathroom in order to find a first aid kit, some kind of food source, a large bowl of water and a flannel, so that he could begin to help Ruth.

* * *

><p>Erin marched purposefully through the hospital corridors, searching randomly, without any notable directions as to where Dimitri was currently residing. Calum was hot at her heels, although he had to admit that he was having trouble keeping up with the woman in all her fury. Yet he had sense enough not to conduct this pointless search for much longer, and he grabbed her arm, steering her towards the nearest help desk.<p>

"Cal!" she protested angrily, but her colleague shook his head stubbornly and pointed at the curly-haired receptionist, who had just noticed them and was staring curiously.

"Instead of going in here all guns blazing," he shrugged. "let's just ask where he is. It'll be a lot quicker than storming through the entire hospital, scaring people out of their wits, I can tell you that."

Erin did not look pleased at his words; in fact, the word 'mutinous' sprung to Calum's mind, but he knew she would thank him later when they actually found Dimitri, rather than being forcibly removed by security for disturbing the peace. She glared at him for another few second, her bottom lip sticking out like a petulant child, before tutting. "Fine."

She strode over to the helpdesk, just as the receptionist hastily looked down again, pretending she had witnessed nothing. The curly-haired, middle-aged woman must have waited a few seconds before deciding it was safe to lift her head and look questioningly at Erin. "Yes?" she asked kindly. "What can I do for you?"

Erin frowned and studied the irritating woman for a few moments, before deciding it would do no good to berate this woman for listening into their conversation. So she cleared her throat and said crisply, "Yes, I'm looking for Dimitri Levendis… he was brought here into A&E about an hour ago."

"Oh yes," the receptionist nodded in confirmation before her kind face contorted into a frown as she narrowed her eyes slightly, "Who might you be then?"

Erin looked irritably at the testy woman, "I assume you're aware of the work Mr Levendis does."

"I might, I might not." The middle-aged receptionist said suspiciously, turning her glance from Erin to Calum, as if trying to work out whether they were friends or foes. With regards as to what they were about to do, Calum himself was not sure himself whether they were friends or enemies of Dimitri.

Erin narrowed her eyes, "Don't play games with me," she snapped. "I've had a very long day, little sleep and-"

"Oh for the love of…" Calum muttered, joining Erin at the reception desk, and pulling out his ID badge to present to the older woman. "Calum Reed – Junior Case Officer for MI5's Anti-terrorism unit," he held the badge in front of the woman's face for a few more seconds so that she could get a good long look. "And this," he said nodding to Erin, who reluctantly produced her ID card for surveillance as well. "is Erin Watts, my boss. She's also Mr Levendis' boss and we've come to escort him back to work after his injury."

The older woman's eyes widened as she realised she had spoken back to two civil servants; the woman seemingly particularly important. For an instant she seemed unable to move, let alone articulate any form of sentence. Calum smiled back at her pleasantly, pleased that he had generated such a stunned response – it had never really worked for him before. He guessed it helped having Erin by his side, "We'd like to go in and see him now."

The curly-haired receptionist stared for a few more seconds at the pair of them, with wide, shocked eyes before producing a gargling noise, which they interpreted as her finding her voice. Eventually she succeeded at this task and stuttered rather hoarsely, "Of… of course… sorry…." She glanced around nervously for a moment before her eyes lit up, "Liam!" she called over their heads, her eyes over the other side of the room.

They turned to see a young medical student, with long shaggy brown hair, and looking quite bewildered to be called over, stumbling towards them. He looked as if he was about twenty, which Erin thought was a little young to be studying medicine, but then that might explain why he looked so young and small in his scrubs, which were vastly too big for him.

"Erm… yes Amanda?" he asked nervously, looking rather perturbed at the wide-eyed look in the receptionists eye.

"Could you take this lady and gentleman to Dimitri Levendis' room." Calum raised an eyebrow at Erin in surprise at the over-gracious way this woman was now talking about them. "He's being seen to by Doctor Kramer in examination room four," she told the youngster, after a brief check on her computer.

"I'm sure we'll find it." Calum said hastily, knowing the last thing they need was a scrawny medical student breathing down their necks as they got down to business.

"No," the receptionist named Amanda said firmly. "You must be escorted there." Calum frowned, unable to work out whether this woman was nosy, still suspicious and thus assigning them with a spy, or was just plain over-patriotic.

"This way." Liam stuttered quickly, setting off down a corridor before Erin and Calum had even had time to look at each other. They hurried along after him, leaving behind a bewildered-looking receptionist, who was wondering what exactly had just happened.

"I didn't think we'd get away with that." Calum admitted in a murmur to Erin so that the young student, Liam, was out of earshot.

Erin gave half a smile, shrugged and they followed on in silence, both knowing that this confrontation was not going to be pretty.

**Next up, Harry plays nurse to Ruth, and a little tenderness between them. Erin and Cal finally get their hands on Dimitri - how exactly is he going to explain the situation to them? ;) Also some deliberations on how they're going to solve the up and coming plane crisis. I hoped you liked this chapter anyway. Please review... xxx :)**


	44. Chapter 44

**I'm back after a lot of real life commitments and ponderings as to whether this story should continue and what to do with it. First off, thank you to all of your lovely reviews and thank you very much to littlemissruth for your lovely message of encouragement. It's so long since I've written this I hope this chapter isn't too bad, and that it isn't too sentimental. You can expect more frequent updates from now on I think, now that I've got back into the gist of things, and I'm also developing another story in my mind which might be a bit AU. Anyway, I hope people enjoy this. Please read and review :) xxx**

Every now and again, through the haze of her fever, Ruth would gain consciousness for a matter of seconds before drifting back off again. Each time, Harry tried to get her to wake, but to no prevail. Through these brief hazy spells, all Ruth could feel was heat. Nothing but the feeling of being so unbearably hot; so much so, she could not remember the last time she had felt the chill of the wind against her cheeks, or a cool pillow beneath her. She was vaguely aware of someone standing above her, and blissfully cool water running across her forehead, but she could not bring herself to widen her eyes any further to get a better, more detailed glimpse at her surroundings. At one time, she opened her eyes almost fully, and Harry was convinced – and praying – that she would come round, but his hopes came unfulfilled.

Harry didn't pretend to be an expert at first aid, but his time in the security services, and the army prior to that, had taught him at least basic skills necessary for the field. He had lost count of the amount of men in the field who had fallen ill with a fever, but obviously, none of them had been women, and none of them were heavily pregnant. Harry smiled briefly as he figured that had he spoken these thoughts aloud to a conscious Ruth, she would have told him that that was an incredibly misogynistic and sexist thing to say – implying that women were weaker than men. Yet Harry would have told her quite firmly, that at the present time, she _was_ far weaker. She had been held in a cold dark room for an estimated 48 hours without comfort (which could potentially have caused both her and the baby pain), no food or drink and no warmth – all of which were required at this stage in her pregnancy. Not to mention a toilet – Harry was not sure how her bladder had managed to bear the distance of time, due to her constant complaints over recent months that the baby was using her bladder as a squeeze toy. But he did the best he could for her, filling a bowl with cold-ish water and sponging it with a damp flannel across her forehead to cool her boiling skin. In the process, the water washed off most of the dried blood from Ruth's head-wound, leaving a trail of tender cuts and bruises across her hairline, which Harry then proceeded to cover with a bandage from the first aid kit. With a smile, it occurred to him, and he thought it was rather ironic, that the last time he had bandaged her injured skin, they had ended up in bed together; conceiving a child. In a way he was on the bed with her again, except this time he was sitting on the edge trying to comfort her in a time of illness and suffering; he knew which memory he'd rather recall in the future. Harry knew it was probably a horribly selfish thought, but he wondered whether he and Ruth would ever share something as wonderful as that night together again, considering all that she had been through and the trouble they had yet to face. In all likelihood, they were going to have to leave the country, and he almost couldn't bear putting Ruth through that again anyway; not to mention the fact that she was almost full-term and possibly, the child would be born within a few weeks of settling into a foreign country. And then, knowing her, she would be trying studiously to adjust to motherhood, and he again, to fatherhood – surely there would be no time for such…selfish indulgence.

He gently tightened the bandage so that it fit around her head snugly, before laying her head softly onto the cool pillows again. She whimpered softly in her sleep, telling Harry that the nightmares were still continuing to dominate her unconscious state. His heart almost broke as he watched and heard her cry out in agony, immersed in the same nightmare she relived every night. So Harry repeated the same action he did every time the nightmare returned, sitting up alongside her on the bed, cradling her head in his arms and stroking her hair gently; whispering words of love and comfort. Ruth perhaps could not hear them, he thought, but her unconscious could, because as always, she quietened immediately, slipping into a more peaceful slumber.

He sat with her a few more minutes before deciding it was safe to let go, and as he was releasing her, his hand brushed against her soaking clothes. Her shirt was cold, damp and still grimy, and Harry was sure that she was not going to get any better whilst she was wrapped in damp material. On the contrary, the fact that her fever still was not going down, and he had tried every other method possible to get it to do so, pointed to indicated that her clothes might be part of the problem. He faced an inward dilemma. Their relationship had been going from strength to strength in recent months, and he was sure that Ruth trusted him implicitly, yet he feared he might break that trust if he did something to break her privacy, like removing her clothes without her explicit permission. Yet in order to get that permission, he would have to wake her, and she would have to be conscious. However she was not waking from her feverish, unconscious state for him to be able to ask this, and this was perhaps because of her still damp clothes. He sighed – it all just ran into one big cycle. He decided he would have to make an executive decision for himself. It did not take him long to decide as he witnessed her shiver again underneath the blankets, and so, praying that Ruth would forgive him, he gently moved the duvet back to give him access to her slightly shaking body.

"Please don't be angry at me sweetheart." He whispered to her softly, as his hands hovered over her top. He knew she couldn't hear him, but he felt it necessary to say the words anyway. "I promise you… I promise you that I'm not taking advantage of you. This is going to… or at least I hope it's going to help you."

Sucking in a deep breath, he slowly gripped the bottom of her soaking brown maternity shirt and began to manoeuvre it little by little up her body. He caught a glimpse of the stretched skin over her baby bump and averted his eyes, knowing that if Ruth was conscious, she would not want him staring at her body. So, taking care not to look at her in any great detail, he lifted her limp arms above her head and slipped the sodden item off. As he did so, his eyes caught briefly the swell of her enlarged, but bra-encased breasts, and he could not help the sharp spark of desire that flew across his body. He squashed it down again as soon as it ignited however, angrily reprimanding himself for such inappropriate thoughts when she was so vulnerable. He thought sadly that the last time he had removed her clothes had been on that beautiful night, but he had to grudgingly admit to himself that the last time he had seen her naked had been… well… the night of the attack. And that was something Harry never wanted to remember again, yet the images assailed his mind, and he knew that they would continue to haunt him for the rest of his life. He squeezed his eyes tight shut, as if physically forcing the memories from his head, before gently drawing the duvet back around her.

Harry carried the sodden top over to the chair over on the far side of the room, making a mental note to wash it for her later. Until then, he opened the wardrobe and searched through its contents for something large, clean and dry that would fit Ruth now that her stomach was so large. He eventually found an extra-large men's dress shirt and decided that it would have to do. He wasn't looking for something extremely glamorous anyway, and of course, there were no maternity clothes in an MI5 safe house. Removing the white shirt from its coat hanger, he approached the bed again. Harry repeated the cycle of removing the covers again and sitting on the edge of the bed, but this time, he drew her against him so that he could slip her arms through each of the sleeves and around her back, before settling her comfortably against the pillows. Ruth whimpered again in her sleep and Harry hushed her gently, whilst setting his fingers to the task of doing up the shirt buttons. The only problem with a dress shirt, was that in fastening the buttons, he glimpsed the skin beneath, and Harry's heart almost broke as he approached her ribs and covered breasts. Her skin held several cuts, scars, and off-colour patches which had not seemed to heal since the attack. Scars which Harry was prepared to bet, would have healed by now if they ever were going to. She was probably going to have a reminder of the rape on her body for the rest of her life. He couldn't even bear to think about what those four men must have done to her to achieve these permanent marks. Unable to stop himself, he leaned down and gently kissed the tender white and red scarring on her ribs, but stopped as the trail led up to her bra-concealed breasts. He wasn't going to do something as intimate as that without Ruth's spoken permission. He hastily finished buttoning the shirt and gently wrapped her warmly in the duvet again.

As his eyes drifted over her sleeping face, it was then that the reality of Elena's words from before hit him. Sasha. His own son had done that damage to Ruth. Or if not, his colleagues had – which was almost as bad. It seemed to him almost as if _he himself_ had raped her when he thought in depth about it, because something of his creation – a boy that carried his genes… his blood had brutally attacked Ruth, the woman he loved. And it wasn't fair. None of it was fair. Harry wanted to cry but he knew that if Ruth woke up and saw him in a state, then she would be distressed as well, because she was that kind of person – beautiful and gentle, and undeserving of any of the bad things that had been imposed on her. So instead he raised a hand and placed it against her forehead. It was slowly cooling which he supposed was some relief. He knew he had done the right thing now – he just hoped she would not be too upset at the invasion of privacy.

* * *

><p>"He's just through here." Liam stuttered tentatively, still looking rather alarmed at the fact he, a mere trainee doctor had been summoned to escort friends or relatives to another patients room. Erin and Calum exchanged dark looks, so that both knew the confrontation with Dimitri was looming, and it was not looking pretty. Liam came to a sudden stop in front of a doorway and knocked hesitantly before opening it and popping his had round.<p>

"Erm… excuse me sir?" he said quietly. "There's two people to see you."

Before, Dimitri could say another word, however, Erin and Calum barged into the room, leaving poor Liam looking even more nervous than before. He took one look at the glare on Erin's face before deciding it was best to close the door and let the people get on with it. Whoever they were, they were obviously very important – they had to be if Amanda had been gushing in such a way. So, he very quietly closed the door behind him. Erin and Calum were very grateful for this and turned around the glare at Dimitri.

The young man was sitting at the edge of an examination bed, a bandage around his left shoulder, and his arm wrapped snugly in a sling; he was attempting without much success to put his shirt back on with only one good arm. Erin found it hard not to look at Dimitri's muscly chest without thinking about the possibility of what she and him could have had together, had their relationship not been a bunch of lies.

"Oh, hi guys." Dimitri said, grimacing as he tried to move his left arm again to put the shirt on, only to remember it was bandaged up in a sling. "How did you know I was here?"

"Bilberry told us." Calum replied shortly.

Dimitri had a sinking feeling he knew why the pair might be glaring at him, but he thought it best to keep up pretentions for the moment.

"Okay." He nodded slowly.

"What erm… what exactly happened?" Erin asked smoothly, flashing a warning glance at Calum, telling him not to give the game away just yet. Dimitri looked confused for an instant, before she pointed to his injured arm. He was quite sure now that somehow the pair must know what was going on, or at least they thought they knew what was going on, because Erin's glance was positively cold towards him. She was hardly ever cold towards him. He felt misery at just the thought of her thinking he was capable of such an act, but decided to play along until he was sure of himself.

"Harry… and Ruth… well, Harry really," he said, knowing that they would never believe Ruth capable of kidnap. "He tried to abduct the Gavriks', and we only just managed to stop them." He was deliberately vague, because he could see from Erin's breathing that she was getting more and more infuriated, and he wanted to test her patience to see if she really 'knew'. "He shot me in the process though-"

"Oh cut the crap Dimitri!" she suddenly yelled, and even though Dimitri had half been expecting the intense reaction, he was not really prepared for it, jumping back on the bed from the sheer ferocity in her voice. "We _know_."

He wished more than anything that she hadn't got involved because it was going to make it so much harder for him to protect her now. Dimitri looked to Calum for assurance and could see him give a supporting nod at Erin's comment.

"Know?" Dimitri asked, feigning confusion, although he knew that even_ he_ wouldn't believe himself. For some reason, he just couldn't act the part around Erin. Not when she was looking at him as if he had betrayed them all… betrayed her. And after so much hurt in her life already, he really couldn't bear to put her through this as well.

"At least have the guts to admit it!" she yelled, completely out of control, teardrops leaking from the corners of her eyes and dribbling down her cheeks. "At least have the guts to admit you're one of them!"

"One of who?" Dimitri asked weakly, even though he knew his resolve was slipping.

"We bugged your phone." Calum spoke up. His voice was cold and not at all jesting like it usually was. It was a demonstration of the friendship that he and Erin had shared over the years… even before he had known her. "We heard you… you didn't get shot stopping Harry and Ruth from kidnapping the Gavriks'. You, the Gavriks' and the bloody Home Secretary abducted them!"

"You bastard!" Erin growled bitterly, seemingly all of the energy slowly draining out of her as her tears took over. "You… you tried to kill them. After all they've been through. They trusted you and you turned it against them. You're a liar, and you've betrayed your country."

Dimitri couldn't bear it anymore, "Erin-" he began weakly.

"Don't you dare try and wriggle your way out of this one!" She cried. "Because your country and Harry and Ruth – they're not the only ones you've betrayed!"

"Look-" Dimitri said, aghast that she would think this way.

"And don't you worry – we know about your little plot." Calum interjected again. "We know all about the plane and we've got a team onto it. All that's left to do is contact the PM and gather your little gang of fellow terrorists together."

"Oh God, don't do that." Dimitri groaned.

"Why not? Because you'll go to prison?" Erin demanded sharply, swiping furiously at her tears. "Well let me tell you that it'll be life in prison for you!"

As he was threatened with this absurd punishment, and after the emotional and professional rollercoaster of a day, something in Dimitri snapped. "For goodness sake stop being so 2D-minded!" he yelled suddenly, shutting them both up. "If you do this then it'll ruin everything!"

"Of course it will," Calum muttered. "That's the idea."

"Not that, you pompous over-glorified prat!" Dimitri yelled furiously at his shocked colleague. "Months of undercover work! Months of trying to infiltrate this cell, of gaining their trust, of trying to help Harry and Ruth _and_ protect our nation! Months of careful, uncover work will be ruined in a matter of hours."

Erin and Calum could not help but stop and stare at him for a few seconds, as if trying to work out whether or not he was telling the truth. They had every reason not to believe him – he was after all agitated – the tell-tale sign of a guilty man trying to worm his way out of a hopeless tight-spot. Yet his words had been spoken with such passion, Erin could not help but cling to this small ray of hope. There was a small silence which was layered thickly with tension before she spoke:

"Undercover work?" she asked sharply. "What do you mean?"

Dimitri sighed and looked around, searching for any cameras within the room. Not that it would do any good anyway – if untold forces were surveying the scene, he had already given himself away. Still, in instances such as this, his spooks tendencies set in.

"Look," he said quietly and more like his usually calm exterior, placing a placating free hand on Erin's warm shoulder. "Let's get out of here and I'll give you the full details."

Erin's reflexes were as quick as lightning and in that moment, both men could see why she was regarded so highly by those within the service. All within the space of a second, Erin propelled herself out of Dimitri's grip, punched him in the jaw with her left hand and drew her gun from the holster around her waist with her right. By the time Dimitri had recovered from the surprisingly swift blow, and having been flung against the mattress, he manoeuvred himself one-handed and with difficulty to a dazed sitting position; Erin was facing him with her gun pointed directly at his chest. He looked to his left to see Calum having followed suite and was also aiming a gun in his direction. Dimitri sighed bitterly – he tried to serve his country and instead he was yelled at, shot, and yelled at some more, only to be faced with yet more guns.

"We are not going anywhere until you give us some answers." Erin spat at him. "Only guilty men want to try and get away. So I'm going to give you," She raised her arm and waved back her sleeve to consult her watch. "Ten minutes to explain everything. Ten minutes for you to convince us as to what's really been going on, convince us you're innocent and if you're lying… may the lord help you."

* * *

><p>Ruth shifted slightly as she felt the bliss of sleep begin to drift hopelessly away. She tried with all her might to cling to the small depths of unconsciousness for just a while longer, knowing that right now she felt warm, comfortable and content. Yet the harder she fought to retain her grip on sleep, the further it seemed to float away. She frowned, her eyes still closed tightly, but she could sense brightness from behind her eyelids. Ruth knew that if she opened her eyes, she would be confronted by a painfully bright light, and that was not a particularly tempting thought. Here, in this warm cocoon she could block out the light and stay within the calming, lulling depths of darkness and hopefully, sleep would soon return. She tried to recall what her dream had been about, but as always, she could not remember – perhaps that was for the best, she thought.<p>

A sharp kick from within her abdomen disturbed her from her thoughts and still with her eyes closed, she gasped slightly at the sheer force of it. Ruth slowly lifted her right hand to place it over her stomach but she was surprised when it came into contact with soft skin instead, as something, or rather someone, gently claimed her hand before it could reach its destination.

"Ruth?"

The voice was processed through her analytical brain and she recognised it immediately as Harry's. She lifted her cheeks into a slight smile, but she ached everywhere, including in her facial muscles, so she stopped relatively quickly. She felt skin move against skin again as she was vaguely aware of someone stroking her hand, and Ruth finally forced herself to try and open her eyes just a crack.

"Sweetheart?" she heard Harry say softly again.

In her haze-filled confusion, she did not quite make the connection between Harry's voice and the person holding her hand, and she fought to open her eyes further to establish who that person was. She had been right; as her eyes opened, bright light flooded into her vision and for an instant, she had to close them again before retrying. Her brain commanded her aching head to turn to the right, in the direction of her right hand, and through her narrowed eyes she saw the shadow of a stocky, rather crumpled-looking man. Ruth still couldn't focus properly so once again, she closed her eyes briefly before opening them fully.

"Ruth? Come on sweetheart."

Slowly, ever so slowly Ruth began to focus on the man sitting beside her, starting with the recognisable hand that held hers tenderly. Her eyes travelled up his arm, past his rather grubby, stained shit, before finally settling on a familiar face. Suddenly it all made sense.

"Harry." She whispered, although perhaps a more apt word to describe it would have been 'croaked'. She had not meant for her voice to sound so soft and weak, but her mouth suddenly felt inexplicably dry.

Harry's face broke out into a wide grin and he sighed with relief, reaching forwards and kissing her forehead gently; still gripping her hand. "Oh thank you lord," he murmured quietly. He had been waiting another three hours for her to wake up since the fever had begun to diminish, and he had been beginning to wonder whether he should have taken her to the hospital. Seeing her gorgeous bright blue eyes again was certainly a sight for sore eyes, and certainly, he had never seen a more beautiful sight. "Hi," he whispered gently to her. "How are you feeling?"

Ruth frowned slightly, her brain still slow and sleep-addled, trying to process the question and then communicate an answer. "M'okay," she croaked back. "Ache… bit thirsty… I-"

Suddenly, she stopped mid-sentence, her eyes automatically becoming wide, awake and alert as images and memories flashed into her mind – being held captive in that dark room, Towers, Dimitri and the Gavriks' revealing all, Dimitri being a double agent, the staged fight between Harry and Dimitri, Ilya Gavrik running towards them. Ruth rapidly began to try and sit up, glancing wide-eyed around her surroundings.

"W…Where are we?" she frowned in utter confusion, taking in the white duvet and walls; the scratchy blue carpet, the wardrobe. How on earth did they get here? "Th…the Gavriks… wait... no… Towers… Dimitri… we were…" Her breathing began to speed up rapidly, and Harry's grip on her hand tightened as he recognised all the signs of her beginning to panic. Slowly, so as not to startle her, he stood from the chair he had placed at the side of her bed, from which he had been keeping watch over her, and he sat on the edge of the bed, bending his head to her level so that she had no choice but to look at him.

"Shh…" he hushed her soothingly, rubbing soft circles over her hand, using his other hand to raise her chin so that she looked directly at him. "You're safe… we're safe. We got away… just in the nick of time I'll admit, but we did it." At her still confused expression, he smiled softly and continued gently, "You passed out… you were exhausted and you're nearly nine months pregnant – you hadn't slept or eaten in probably 48 hours, you had been clobbered over the head and your body just couldn't take it anymore."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her brain finally forming some degree of focus. "I must have slowed you down no end."

"You've nothing to be sorry for." He replied firmly. "Like I said, your body couldn't cope. We managed just fine." At her disbelieving look, Harry just smiled gently and brought her hand up to kiss it, "It wasn't easy, but there was no way I was leaving you there. Dimitri and I improvised."

"Improvised?" she asked quietly but dubiously, sensing a slight guilt from within Harry. "What do you mean 'improvised'?"

"To put it bluntly," Harry sighed. "I shot him."

Ruth blinked, to check that she hadn't slipped into sleep again. No, she was quite awake. "You… you _shot_ him?" she spluttered. She regained her expression of panic, "Please… you didn't… kill him? Oh God, he was trying too help us escape, please tell me you didn't-"

Harry hushed her again, reaching out to stroke her hair softly in comfort, and thankfully she quietened in response, "He's fine. I promise you he'll be fine. I made sure the bullet missed his arm; it'll have just grazed him. But it gave him the opportunity to let us get away. We're in one of Dimitri's safe houses."

Ruth's grip on his hand relaxed and her breathing returned to a more even state as she took in her surroundings with a calmer state of mind. "Are we… safe here?" she asked him softly, and with such vulnerability it made his heart melt.

Harry smiled encouragingly at her, "You've been out for about twenty hours – eighteen of which, we were here. If Dimitri wasn't to be trusted, and if he was going to betray us, I think he'd have done it by now. I think we're quite safe."

"_Twenty hours_?" she croaked incredulously. "How can I have been out twenty hours?"

"You were exhausted." Harry repeated softly, continuing to stroke her still damp hair in a soothing motion. "You've had a bad fever ever since you collapsed back at the cottage – the result of no rest, food and extreme stress over the past few days. You've been sleeping it off in order to get better. I'd say that's a well-deserved twenty hours sleep." Ruth calmed slightly seeing the pain in Harry's eyes, and realising just how worried he had been for her and the baby. She still felt Harry's hand in hers and she squeezed it gently in comfort. He produced a tentative but sad smile back. "I… I didn't know if I was doing the right thing not taking you to the hospital. I suppose those ever-lasting spooks instincts kicked in. I knew that if I took you to the hospital we'd have been found immediately. I've training in first aid – from and I was… seventy per cent sure that that would be enough to help you get better." Ruth could tell from his eyes that he was worried she would think he had put his spook instincts ahead of her safety, and she squeezed his hand tighter this time.

"And I did." She croaked with an encouraging smile. "I'm okay."

"Yes but what if-"

"What ifs aren't relevant in the here and now Harry." She whispered gently and he paused to look at her, as if scanning her condition visually, before allowing himself a small, wobbly smile.

"You're right." He nodded, although Ruth could tell that deep inside he was not fully convinced. Before she could question this however, he squeezed her hand again and asked, "Is there anything you need? Are you alright?"

As if 'alright' had been a trigger word, in that moment Ruth felt a sharp pain in her temples and forehead as for the first time, she noticed that she had one hell of a headache. She closed her eyes briefly against the migraine and lifted her free hand to the top of her head where her fingers promptly came into contact with cosily wrapped bandages and rough gauze. She looked questioningly at Harry who smiled gently, "I dressed your head wound for you whilst you were asleep." He explained, and having noticed Ruth's slight wince of pain he asked concernedly, "Is there a problem? Are you in pain?"

She shook of his concerns with a shake of the head, which of course, made her head ache worse and she let out a hiss of pain. "Just… just a headache. It'll pass – it's fine."

Harry wished the first aid kit held aspirin but unfortunately, MI5 safe houses did not cater for such minor irritations, although in Harry's view, no minor pain was warranted in Ruth's case. He wanted her to be as pain-free as possible. It was not the first time his desensitised Head of Counter Terrorism self had come into conflict with the man he was around Ruth these days. He knew that had someone like Adam Carter in the past complained of a headache, he would have told them to shut up and get on with it. Then again, Harry mused, Adam Carter would never have complained of a headache. He was a compulsive worker and wouldn't have let it affect his work. He knew Ruth too would never complain of such a thing, but he knew that her headache was not the result of a normal migraine, but that of her head wound. He could only hope, like she said, it would pass, and that it was only the remnants of a light concussion. So instead, he searched for the next best alternative and answered her softly: "I'll get you a glass of water."

"I'll be fine." She protested croakily, but Harry silenced her by standing up insistently and saying with gentle humour:

"Ruth, the amount of times you replace 'not fine' with 'fine', you could create major confusion in relation to the English language."

Ruth blushed but could not help but produce a small smile. He smiled back: "I'll be back in a minute."

With that, he left the room. She listened carefully to his footsteps creaking along what sounded like wooden floorboards, presumably towards the bathroom. As she listened, she analysed their situation and surroundings more closely. Despite her pounding headache and the quite frequent turnings of the baby within her stomach, she managed to hoist herself, with difficulty, up into a sitting position, leaning her back against the pillows. It was only then as the duvet fell away from her upper body that she realised that she was not wearing her own clothes as she had been previously. Instead she was wearing an unfamiliar men's white dress shirt that must have been at least an extra-large size in order to accommodate the size of her stomach. She could barely see past her expanded stomach so she could not see whether she was still wearing her skirt or not, but she wiggled her toes and felt that her shoes had also been removed. Trying to keep as calm as possible, she took a minute to process this – whilst she had been sleeping Harry must have undressed her and redressed her in these clean clothes, though where her own clothes had gone was a mystery to her. From the sound of him, she had worked up quite a fever over the past few hours, and realised that Harry must have removed her damp clothes in order for her to get better. She had no qualms with this in itself, but the thought of him undressing and… and seeing her… those awful scars… that was a little too much. He would be too polite to say anything, but she just knew he must have been repulsed by the sight of her, and she swallowed, her throat suddenly very tight and dry indeed.

Ruth was so immersed in her thoughts that she had stopped listening to Harry's footsteps and was unaware of him watching her from the doorway, glass of water in hand. He himself swallowed as he saw her pluck anxiously at the clean dress shirt, and worried that she was now going to retreat from him after realising he had invaded her privacy. Taking a deep breath he cleared his throat loudly to alert her to his presence and walked carefully over to the bed, handing her the three-quarters full glass. She gave him a small smile but it did not quite reach her eyes, which seemed to have turned slightly greyish again, as they always did when she was depressed or anxious. She did not meet his eyes either as she accepted the glass into one hand, her other still plucking at the shirt. Harry decided to get the explanation over and done with:

"I had to get you undressed while you were sleeping – get you into something clean and warm – your own clothes were so damp."

Ruth tried to smile again, knowing he had meant well, "I know." She nodded softly. Needing something to do with her hands, she raised the glass of water and took a sip. The liquid slipped effortlessly down her throat, providing her with cool relief.

"I washed them through and they're drying in the bathroom now; should be ready for you to wear in a few hours time."

"Thank you." Ruth said sincerely, knowing he had gone to great lengths to help her. But she still did not meet his eyes.

Harry sighed and reclaimed her right hands, stilling it from plucking at the shirt she was currently wearing. "I'm sorry… I really am sorry if I overstepped any boundaries of privacy. I know… after everything… you don't want anyone to… to see you in such a way, but you really were poorly and-"

"I know." She said softly, squeezing his hand and finally meeting his eyes. "I understand that Harry. If anything, I should be saying thank you but…" she tailed off, unsure how to communicate her shame.

"But what?" Harry pressed gently, rubbing soothing circles over her hand.

Ruth opened her mouth to answer but no sound came out. She couldn't say it. They had ben making rapid progress recently and now of all moments was not the time to have the conversation; not when they were less than 48 hours before a plane was due to explode over Central London. So she shook her head slowly so as not to make her aching head anymore painful and said quietly, "It's nothing. Thank you." She added, smiling softly at him. "Thank you for looking after me."

"Ruth," Harry continued, not believing for a second that there wasn't something else wrong. He had undertaken extensive training in which he could automatically tell when someone was lying, and what was more, he knew and had learnt the signs in Ruth when something was wrong. "I can tell something's not entirely right. I'm sorry if I've upset you-"

"You've not Harry." She insisted.

"Okay then, I'm sorry if I've made you angry or uncomfortable." He was lying in part, because he knew full well that if he had not done what he did, her fever would have grown worse, but he had to gauge some form of reaction from her.

"It… it's not you." Ruth said quietly. "Really, it's not you."

"Well, it's got something to do with me." Harry said quickly, watching as she ducked her head to look at the duvet. "Come on Ruth," he pressed gently. "I'm not an imbecile and you know it."

Ruth continued to look down at the duvet, and Harry did not try and force her to look at him this time, knowing it would be counterproductive when she was deep in thought; it was hard enough for her to speak her thoughts at the moment as it was, without looking at him as she did so.

"I…I'm sorry." She whispered eventually. "This must be so infuriating for you… constantly having to tiptoe around my feelings because you're afraid I'm going to explode or become… hysterical at any moment."

"No…" Harry began firmly, but Ruth winced briefly, telling him to be quiet and listen for a moment.

"And I'm sorry for constantly being this… I don't know… damsel in distress figure who you always have to come and save and look after, and I want you to know… that's… that's not the real me… you wouldn't have to put up with it usually… you shouldn't have to put up with it…"

Harry so badly wanted to contradict her on every point and tell her she was not a hindrance at all; that he knew she wasn't usually as vulnerable as this – it was a result of all she had been through in recent months, but he knew she was trying to explain herself so he kept quiet.

"And you helping me… get changed… I know you were helping and I'm grateful, I really am… I don't mind because it was you and… and I know that you'd never to anything to hurt me… not willingly anyway, but you… you must have seen the… erm… scars and…" she closed her eyes and took deep breath. "And if it… repulsed you, I do understand-"

Harry couldn't take it anymore, "No." he said sharply and loudly, causing Ruth to stop, for which he was very grateful. "No," he repeated in a slightly gentler tone. "I saw the scars yes but..." he looked closely at Ruth who still had her eyes clamped shut, as if willing herself to look away as he spoke. "Ruth look at me." There was no response so he repeated the statement, bringing one hand to rest on her chin. It worked and slowly she opened her eyes to look nervously at him. He could see she was willing tears away, so he smiled encouragingly at her and continued, "I saw the scars but they could never repulse me Ruth." He said tenderly. "Never. And you couldn't either. You're a gorgeous woman Ruth, you really are." She tried to look away, a doubtful blush rising in her cheeks, but he held her chin firmly in his hand. "You're beautiful and kind and brave and incredibly brilliant." His voice cracked slightly as emotion welled up within just by saying these words. "No scars are ever going to change that. Especially since I know how you got them and how much pain you must have been in when you got them. But they're testament to the fact that you're the bravest woman I've ever met-"

"I've not been brave." She whispered, tears dribbling down her face at his loving words.

"Yes you have. Because you've not given up and let them continue to dominate in here," he said, gently tapping her temple. "You've got on with your life – you're looking after our child, you beat me in every game of scrabble, you read Chinese translations before bedtime as if they were mere children's books." He tenderly wiped her face of tear tracks, even though his own eyes were welling up. "So you're not a damsel in distress, and I know you're not usually like this. I know how brilliant and strong and funny you can be." He smiled slightly. "You infuriated me beyond all measure in the first year of working for me with your constant brightness and bounciness – I know all that. And I also know that you'll be okay one day; that you might just regain some of that youthfulness."

Ruth looked back at him hopefully, her chin trembling and her heart swelling with the openness and love in Harry's words. Was this really the man whom she had worked for a mere nine months ago? He was being so gentle and kind, yet she could tell from the sincerity in his eyes that he was speaking the truth.

"So you don't need to worry about me being… repulsed at your scars Ruth." He finished strongly, his own tears dribbling down his cheeks now. "You've got no reason to be embarrassed because I was there in the aftermath of the rape… I saw the initial damage, and you were still beautiful to me then. And I saw your body that night we made love – it was beautiful then as well. I… I know _you _Ruth." He finished quietly.

There was a pause as both took a moment to breathe and process the intimate moment between the two of them. As well as his tears, Harry could feel his own blush rising up, knowing that he had just worn his heart on his sleeve as he never had done before in his entire life. He was Harry Pearce – superspy, head of counter terrorism – a fierce and unrelenting spook who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted and the right result of the country, but this glorious woman made him become someone else entirely. And he had to admit, he like that person better. Ruth choked out a last sob, and wiping away the remainder of her own tears, she reached up one hand to gently wipe away his. Goosebumps rose within Harry as she touched his skin, and he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms. Yet before he could even think of moving, Ruth suddenly leant forwards and kissed him. It was unlike any other tentative, chaste kiss that they had shared ever since the rape, but a long, emotion-filled, passionate one. He hesitantly placed his tongue to her lips and to his surprise and delight, she opened her mouth to him. She poured all her feelings of gratitude and love into the kiss. Eventually, Ruth pulled away, feeling when enough was enough, even though she had enjoyed it immensely, and Harry instantly followed suit, his feelings reciprocating hers. They were both breathing quite heavily, and Harry looked down at Ruth to see her eyes had retreated back to the bed covers, a red tinge, evident in her cheeks.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, stroking her warm cheeks with one hand.

She nodded slowly, "Yes… I… I'm sorry if that was… forward or-"

"That was incredible." Harry finished for her, and she looked up to see all traces of his tears gone, to be replaced by a genuine smile. She returned the smile.

"I don't deserve you." She said softly, a little sadly.

"Stop it." He told her seriously. "What did I just say?" he raised his eyebrows in caution warning.

"Enough for me to know that underneath your spy boss exterior you're the gentlest, most wonderful man in the world." She replied softly. "And that I love you more than anything else in the world."

Harry's smile widened, wondering if it took something like this for them to become so good at opening up their feelings. "Good. The feeling's mutual." He shook his head. "What are you doing to me Ruth eh?" he asked in good humour. "Harry Pearce doesn't say I love you and express his feelings outright."

"I like it." Ruth admitted smilingly. Her smile froze as she took in his still grimy shirt and the bags under his eyes. He himself had not changed and probably hadn't slept either since arriving; he had been focusing all his attention on her, and he looked exhausted.

"You should sleep Harry." She said quietly, setting her water on the bare bedside cabinet next to her. "You loo exhausted and you haven't changed either since we got here."

"I'll be fine."

"Harry," she said tiredly, repeating his words from before, with a slight smile on her face. "the amount of times you replace 'not fine' with 'fine', you could create major confusion in relation to the English language."

"You matter more. And besides that, we've got a bomb to stop."

"We probably won't be able to do anything from here," she said reasonably, and for an instant, Harry caught a glimpse of the old Ruth. The one who had advised him on strategies for a number of years and he knew he could trust her judgement. "Or at least, we won't be able to do anything if you've had no sleep."

"You're still unwell." Harry argued, even though he knew she had a point. "You should try and get some more sleep yourself."

Ruth paused, concentrating hard as if trying to work up the courage to say something. Harry was about to ask what it was when she said timidly, "Why… why don't you sleep here then?"

"What?" he asked doubtfully.

"We could both get some sleep that way." She reasoned, although she looked incredibly nervous at the suggestion.

Harry squeezed her hand, "If you're really going to make me get some sleep, I'll take a nap on the sofa in the living room – it's bungalow – it won't be too far away. You're not ready yet-"

"I trust you." She said quietly, although she could now feel tiredness fast approaching from nowhere at the mere mention of sleep. She ached all over, not helped in the least by he heavy pregnancy and aching back, and she could feel her eyelids starting to droop.

"Ruth-"

"Please stay." She whispered softly, and Harry's resolve crumbled there and then, hearing the vulnerability in her voice; the fear of rejection. She looked adorable, slowly sinking back down into a lying position in the bed, snuggled safely under the duvet, her bump protruding wonderfully. He felt that same urge to protect her as he had done the night the baby had been conceived, and slowly he nodded.

"Okay." He relented softly. "Budge up."

She did so, requiring a little extra help from Harry due to the size of her stomach, and Harry slid under the duvet beside her, now feeling the tiredness within him. How nice it would feel to fall asleep with his head against a pillow and snugged warmly underneath the covers, with the woman he loved safely in his arms. Little more thinking went on for a while after that, as sleep took them both, with Ruth's head nestled neatly into Harry's shoulder, his left arm curled protectively around her. Both knew that they were prolonging the inevitable discussion about how they'd stop the bomb and the corrupt circle of politicians, and about whether they'd be forced to leave their own country, but for now, that could wait.

**So there we have it. I hope it wasn't too angsty or sentimental. Please let me know what you think :) Next up, Dimitri, Calum and Erin form a plan, and some more gentle HR. Please review xxx**


	45. Chapter 45

**Hi! So, so, so sorry for the lack of updates, after I said there would be more posted soon. This has been due to significant comings and goings with this story - one minute I think it's hopeless and the next, I'm scribbling down ideas like there's no tomorrow. I also have to apologise for the fact that this chapter may be a little disappointing to some fellow HR lovers as it is entirely Dimitri, Erin and Calum (it's also quite short) but I can promise (I swear) that there will be a chapter up in the next few days with lots of HR goodness, as well as some drama. But if you still like it, please don't hesitate to review and let me know what you think. Thank you so much to everyone for all of the fantastic reviews and for adding this story to their favourites. It means a lot :) Still, I hope you like this - even if you're not such a big fan of these three muskateers, there's a lot of plot exposition, and explanations as to what is going to happen in later chapters so you might want to read it anyway :) Thanks xxx**

"So, let me get this straight," Calum said slowly to Dimitri, his brow furrowing as he paced impatiently up and down the recovery room. "Despite the fact you've been working – and I'll quote for now 'undercover' – with the Gavriks' and Towers, you only found out a couple of days ago that they were planning on implicating Harry and Ruth into this whole debacle."

"That's right." Dimitri sighed in confirmation, squirming slightly under Erin's eagle eye glare. "And it's not some fangled lie – it's the truth. We're wasting time just sitting here discussing it-"

"We're staying here until I'm satisfied you actually are telling the truth, because when we were sitting listening to you bully Ruth and Harry, you sounded pretty convincing to me." Erin snapped.

"Why thank you," Dimitri replied dryly. "I'm sure RADA will be offering me a place any day now."

Snarling, Erin shoved the butt of the gun into his chest again and hissed, "If you're genuinely in such a rush I suggest you cut the stupid comments." Dimitri flinched slightly but took her blow with a little more dignity and grace this time round.

"Look," he sighed urgently. "When you overheard me earlier, the plan was to get the Gavriks' and Towers to leave me alone with them. I had to act convincingly in order for them to trust me. It's what you do in an uncover op'."

"Yeah pretty boy," Calum snapped, rounding on him so that both he and Erin were almost inches away from Dimitri's face. "Except in an op' generally you have back-up. If you were genuinely on the good side of the force so to speak, why didn't you let us in on it? Or even let Harry and Ruth know what was going on?"

"It was too dangerous." Dimitri replied firmly, his anger rising at Calum's renewal of the name 'pretty boy'. "You have to understand here that the Gavriks' and the Home Secretary are the main players in this game, but not the only ones. Not by a long shot. Towers is a very influential man, and he's smart. He can use both charm and intelligence to persuade or buy people's allegiance. I've only been undercover for a matter of months and already I've seen the brightest and best of politicians – people I'd never have imagined could have been mixed up with all this – serve Towers' interests."

"Such as?" Erin asked quickly, her interest increasing by the minute, however so was her fear. If Dimitri was indeed telling the truth, then that meant they had a monopoly of enemies surrounding them – there was no way three junior MI5 agents could take them down in one full swipe.

"Jane Maloney, the Foreign Minister." Dimitri replied seriously.

"Maloney – no way," Calum replied, shaking his head doubtfully, but he looked disturbed by the revelation all the same. "She… She seemed like a decent politician."

Erin sighed, "Welcome to politics Calum – the rulers of our country, the politicians are all as bad as they come. They all have deep dark secrets which would chill the blood of any normal citizen." Erin was truly scared by now – if they were completely surrounded by bent politicians and governors in high places, all involved in this little plot to cause anarchy than there was no hope of restoring order, and Harry and Ruth's reputations.

"Wait, does that mean the PM's mixed up in all this?" Calum demanded fearfully.

"Fortunately not." Dimitri confirmed. "At least, I don't think he is. He seems to genuinely dislike the newfound closeness between the Gavriks and Towers. And he has no idea about the plot."

"Well then surely he's the man to go to – if we've got the PM, then we've got the hearts and minds of the nation. The people of this country will surely follow the PM into whatever he decides. If we can expose the plot to the PM and the nation within the next 36 hours than anarchy can be avoided right?" Erin said thoughtfully.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Dimitri said carefully. "You can't just stride into the PM's office and demand to see him. And he's in favour of most of the ben politicians. He wouldn't necessarily believe anything we said even if he did listen."

"So what are you saying?" Erin demanded. "It's useless? We just stand by and do nothing?"

"Sounds to me as if he's messing with us – trying to find some way out for him and his little friends." Calum snarled, cocking the gun in his right hand.

"Not at all!" Dimitri growled desperately. "What I _am _trying to tell you is that the walls have ears, which is why we shouldn't be discussing this here. We're going to have to go about this very carefully."

"Oh so it is _we_ now is it?" Erin questioned him sceptically.

"I'm not sure I'm buying all this." Calum said sharply, his eyes narrowing. "Where's the proof that you're actually on our side?"

Dimitri hesitated for a second before he realised what his only way of convincing them of his genuine allegiance was.

"I know where Harry and Ruth are." He said quietly, if a little reluctantly, wondering whether it was a good idea to let them in on this secret.

There were a good few seconds of silence within the room, as Calum and Erin took in fully what he had just said. Erin stared back at him her mouth closed thinly, gobsmacked, as if trying to interpret whether he was playing some sort of game. Calum's jaw hung open so that it looked as if someone actually had smacked him in the gob.

"You… you know where Harry and Ruth are?" Erin repeated softly, a little dazed in her surprise.

"Well," Dimitri amended quickly. "I know how to contact them and find out where they are."

"What do you mean?"

Dimitri sighed, wondering whether this was really a good idea as this explanation seemed to be taking up a great deal of much-needed time. "Before Harry and Ruth made their escape I gave them a phone – it has only one number on it – my operation mobile, and it receives only that number. With that phone, only the person with this mobile," he said withdrawing the device from his pocket. "Can contact them – and that's me. Also on the phone was a list of safe houses which only a handful of MI5 officers know about."

"How did you know about them then?" Calum asked sharply.

"I didn't. I took the device; illegally I have to admit, from the grid's technical base. It already had the safe houses written into it – only one person knows the whereabouts of all of the safe houses logged into it, and that's its creator – former technical officer Malcolm Wynn-Jones, now retired."

"Wow," Calum muttered, finally looking a little impressed in spite of his supposed fury. "Malcolm Wynn-Jones – he's grid legend." He frowned suddenly as a thought struck him. "But won't someone on the grid notice it's missing?"

"I doubt it," Dimitri answered grimly. "That phone hasn't been used in nearly nine years – the latest person to date to actually use it in an op' was former agent Tom Quinn."

This time, Calum shrugged, the name unfamiliar to him, and Dimitri was given the opportunity to carry on with his explanation. From their now intrigued faces, he could tell he was beginning to win at least Erin over, and he knew that if Erin believed him, then they could begin to deal with this mess. However, he needed to absolutely make sure he had them onside and that meant giving them as much information as he could possibly afford to, without compromising either his cover or Harry and Ruth's safety. "Before Harry and Ruth made their escape, I gave them the phone, and told them to seek shelter in one of the safe houses – all of them have been inactive for years – until I could make contact with them and let them know what was going on."

Erin raised her eyebrow, "Call them then."

Dimitri, who admittedly had been expecting one of them to demand this action ever since he introduced the phone, now sighed, knowing he could not obey the order. "I… I can't."

"There," Calum nodded slightly triumphantly, folding his arms across his chest. "He can't do it because he's been telling a whole load of porkies. The question is – what other lies has he been telling us."

Erin looked conflicted between wanting to believe Dimitri's story for the sake of their relationship (or lack thereof) and the country, and listening to her friend and colleague. Eventually she sighed and nodded at Calum's accusation, "I'm afraid I tend to agree with you Cal." She turned her own accusing eyes on Dimitri, "If you were really telling the truth, then you would call Harry and Ruth now, if only to save your neck."

"Yeah, well maybe their lives mean more to me than mine." Dimitri said sadly, devastated than Erin could not yet see the truth in his eyes.

"Oh no," Calum groaned, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. "Don't start on all melodramatic crap again. What it comes down to is that you're doing all this for yourself – as you said earlier to Harry and Ruth – you're doing it for the money and power."

"You _can't_ call them, or you _won't_?" Erin added to Calum's round of accusations.

"I… I won't." Dimitri said quietly and stubbornly.

"And why not?"

"What was I saying about the walls having ears?" Dimitri urged her desperately, raising a frustrated free hand into the air to emphasise his point. "If I call them here, you never know who could be listening."

"If that's true, then you've already put yourself, us and Harry and Ruth in danger by telling us these things, so what difference is one call going to make?" She demanded reasonably.

"One call can make all the difference." He promised her, and finally she looked a little taken aback at the earnest in his voice. He watched as her eyes softened towards him, and the muscles in her clenched jaw relax, and he knew that he had finally won the battle. Perhaps in terms of the war, it was not a complete victory and there would be a lot to talk about between them later on, but until the cell had been shut down and the plot prevented, that could wait. "It could only put you two in danger if I tell you the number and call Harry and Ruth – and that's what I've been trying to prevent all this time."

"We're MI5 Dimitri," Erin said strongly, though Dimitri registered that her cold tone had disappeared. "Our job is to take risks and to put ourselves in danger."

"In the face of bombs and international terrorists' maybe," Dimitri agreed boldly, and Calum rolled his eyes to the ceiling once more as he noticed his female colleague go doe-eyed at the handsome man in front of her. Great, he thought sarcastically, she's giving into him. Knowing that if Erin was convinced, then the argument would be over, he prepared himself to watch the other man's every move. _He_ was not so easily fooled. "But towards treason." Dimitri continued seriously. "You both probably know that Harry and Ruth are wanted criminals – the fact that they are ex-intelligence officers makes the crime all the more worse. If we are discovered to be aiding them in any way, we'll also stand for that punishment."

"Yeah?" Erin shrugged grimly, her honest, clear eyes never leaving Dimitri's as she chastised him. "Well, it's better than leading us on a wild goose chase because you think we can't hack it."

"I never thought that." Dimitri countered quickly, and the seriousness in his eyes let Erin know that he was telling the truth. Even Calum had to admit that if the older man was acting, than he surely deserved an Oscar.

"I… I know." Erin replied quietly, wondering just when she had stopped being the strong, fierce Section Chief and disintegrated into soft putty in Dimitri's hands. Her eyes now melted into his, and Calum cleared his throat loudly, also wondering the same thing. He was surely going to have to take charge of this situation.

"Okay," he said sharply, striding over and standing firmly between the two of them, blocking their eye contact. "I'm beginning to feel like I'm watching a deleted scene from 'It's a wonderful life'. You," he said turning to Dimitri and pointing a condemnatory finger in his face. "You might have her fooled but I can assure you that it won't be nearly so easy to convince me. Back-up are on their way to your little hide-out. If the place is empty then they are going to take every scrap of evidence against your little friends that they can find and return into me, and _me_ only."

"For the last time," Dimitri groaned tiredly. "They aren't my bloody friends Calum. And I think you're letting the power go to your head."

"Don't test me pretty boy," Calum said coldly, in a tone that sounded most unlike him. He approached Dimitri so that his face was a mere inch from the other man's; their noses virtually touching. "Not so long ago you were acting pretty convincingly that you were on Towers' side, and now you're claiming to be on our side. How exactly are we supposed to decipher which one is the truth?"

"You'll just have to trust me."

"Trust you?" Calum spluttered, whilst Erin opened her mouth to intervene, only to be cut off by her furious colleague again. "After the lies and deceit?"

"I just didn't want you involved. It was safer that way – for all of us."

"Not for you," Erin reminded him reproachfully. "Without any back-up – and also, if you were the only one to know the whereabouts of the safe house, and you were caught out, then it would be over for Harry and Ruth too. They could just track the number in your phone and they'd be done for."

Dimitri sighed knowing she had a point, and wondering when he had got so stupid as to not cover a base such as this. Perhaps it would be better to confess most things after all.

"Besides," Erin continued softly, knowing that the answer now was to placate him quietly, rather than shout at him. "We're already involved."

"So call Harry and Ruth." Calum pressed him swiftly, folding his arms expectantly.

"No," Dimitri told them firmly. "Not here, and not now. I'm not ringing them until there's information to report and until they're a good distance away, which hopefully they will be. We need to give them time to get far enough, and hopefully Harry won't do anything too rash."

"What do you mean?" Erin asked quickly, her heart dropping at the grave note in Dimitri's voice.

"When we were… improvising on how to get away… when Harry shot me to… well… to keep up my cover I suppose… before that, Ruth collapsed." Erin who had previously raised her eyebrow at Harry's extreme method of ensuring Dimitri's cover remained intact gasped in horror.

"What… what the… was she okay? What happened?"

"I honestly don't know," Dimitri said worriedly, and Calum began to question his own judgement, as he began to really listen to what was being said about Ruth. Perhaps the older man was telling the truth after all. "I didn't really have time to ask. From what I can gather though, she was held for quite a while, and do you remember when those bastards seized her in the van?" he asked Erin who promptly nodded, the colour draining from her face. "When they took her, her head slammed against the floor of the van. She had a cut on her head from that."

"Shit." Erin breathed, running a hand across her face, and noticing the gun still in her right hand, lowered it to the floor, away from the direction of Dimitri's chest. He visibly relaxed without the added threat of a gun pointed at him, but he made no attempt to run, which eased Calum's suspicions slightly.

"I just really hope he didn't take risks by taking her to a hospital." Dimitri said quietly.

"Why?" Erin demanded, frowning. "It sounds to me like she's in desperate need of medical help."

"I think, or at least I hope it was mostly exhaustion shining through. They didn't exactly make allowances for the fact that she's pregnant." He bit his lip anxiously. "But their pictures have been posted on London's most wanted list. If he takes her to any hospital then there's a high risk that at least _someone's_ going to call the police, and then there's no getting them back. I was quite lucky in that I got to get them on their own so they could escape. I couldn't risk that again."

"Harry's smart." Calum spoke up, unexpectedly participating in the conversation, and looking a little more relaxed towards Dimitri's explanations. "He wouldn't take the risk."

"Oh I think he might where Ruth is concerned." Dimitri said softly, looking towards Erin as he continued, "He really loves her."

Erin thankfully received the double meaning in this statement and a blush rose up within her cheeks, her heart beginning to repair little by little after splintering at Dimitri's words over the phone earlier. She nodded gratefully, and Dimitri smiled back.

"We'll just have to hope that Harry uses his head." Calum stated, and both Dimitri and Erin turned to face him. "I think we'd better get out of here and go somewhere a little more… discreet."

Dimitri raised his eyebrows in surprise and opened his mouth to speak but his male colleague beat him to it, "This doesn't mean I believe or trust you." Calum declared with as much dignity as he could muster. "But since you're our only lead, it seems we have no choice but to listen to what you have to say. And if you won't call Harry and Ruth here, then we'll find somewhere else that _is_ safe and secure, and you'll do it there. Either way, I expect to be able to hear their voices within the next few hours."

Whilst Erin stared in admiration at her younger colleague and friend, still bewildered that he had this sort of strength and leadership qualities within him, Dimitri nodded curtly, "Fair enough." He conceded.

"So where to?" Calum asked faltering slightly in his domineering role, suddenly realising that he actually had no idea where to go where they would not be overheard. "The Grid?"

"No way. Bilberry's stupid but he's as bent as they come. The Grid's not safe for what we're about to do. And the moment I leave this hospital I'll be under scrutiny," Dimitri said grimly, checking his watch and grimacing as he realised that they were losing more and more precious time. "And so will you."

"Doghouse 3?" Erin asked, a small smile sliding over her features.

"Doghouse 3." Dimitri nodded in confirmation, and the three colleagues made their way to the door.

* * *

><p>"Is it safe to use the same meeting place twice within the space of a few days?" Calum questioned Erin dubiously as they approached the rather odd, yet particularly useful empty hospital room.<p>

True enough, they had arrived there, with Ruth, only a few days previously, however it did not seem like they had much of a choice as to where they could go with suspicious eyes casting over all three of them at every moment. Erin bit her lip and stared up at a rather grim-looking Dimitri as they hurried along the hospital corridors. He for one knew that if they did not make their time here quick, then Towers' men were sure to come looking for him, and considering Erin and Calum had informed Bilberry that they were meeting him there, that didn't look good for his cover, or their safety. It was perhaps just beginning to dawn on Erin the precise amount of pressure that was hanging on Dimitri's shoulders – for the last two months or so he had taken it upon himself to play the hero, and yet it seemed to have made him unpopular with many sides, not least she and Calum up until a few minutes ago. Yet casting a closer, more critical glance at him, she took in his pale, sallow skin, permanently creased forehead and the crinkled skin around his grey-looking eyes. Dimitri seemed older than ever and yet he was barely a day over thirty. Erin recognised the external aging signs – she had seen them before only a few months ago in Ruth, and she hated the way it made him look tired and troubled.

The three young colleagues thankfully reached the door they required within a relatively short space of time, and hurried through it. Calum, who was last to sidle through, locked it firmly behind them. He sighed and approached Dimitri and Erin who were standing in the centre of the entirely chalk white room, at quite a loss as to what to do next. Stopping so that the three now stood in a conspiratorial circle, he looked towards Dimitri.

"So now you call Harry and Ruth right?" he asked, his eagle eyes never leaving the other man's face, as if he was almost daring him to decline.

Yet surprisingly, Dimitri stared back at him calmly and said evenly, "No, not yet."

"You said you wanted to call them from a safe place," he said gesturing around them at the dusty, yet entirely bare, snow white walls. "We're in a safe place. Only us three, Harry and Ruth know about these six meeting places, so you're in no danger of being overheard. Unless you're playing for time of course?" he asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Believe me, I'm not." Dimitri answered seriously. "But that's just the point. We haven't got the time to waste. In just over thirty six hours that plane is going to explode over London. We need to make some calls – try and stop the plane. If we must, we should tell them about the planned terror attack."

"Already done." Erin replied assuredly. "On the way here, we got a team to go to that little shambles of a place you and the others were at earlier, and another one to get onto finding the specific plane. There are three flights, all of which take the same route-"

"Don't bother." Dimitri interjected quickly. "I know exactly which one the suicide bomber's going to board." He frowned as she looked rather surprised at this news. "You didn't listen to the entire conversation did you?" he concluded and Erin for her part, looked rather ashamed.

"There wasn't really time." She defended herself, and Calum nodded fervently in agreement from her side. "We were too busy trying to save Ruth and Harry before you butchered them to death."

Dimitri sighed, admittedly a little upset that they had cornered him on a conversation they had not listened to in its entirety, particularly when they were accusing him of treason. "The plane is a Brussels Airlines transport from Moscow Domodedovo, set to arrive over central London at around 12 noon. The bomb's set for that time exactly."

Calum stared at him in shock for an instant before he tutted and muttered sarcastically, "Oh great! So, if the plane is delayed then the bomb could explode… well… in a completely different place." he finished lamely.

Erin sighed again tiredly, "Right, so we need to map out the plane's route _exactly_." She glanced meaningfully at Calum who tutted again, whipped out a notepad and biro from his blazer pocket and began furiously scribbling her orders down.

"Next thing you know, I'll be making the bloody tea." He mumbled irritably to himself, and thankfully neither Dimitri nor Erin heard him as the sound of his scribbling dominated the acoustics of the room. "Look," he sighed. "If we're really taking _him_ seriously," he nodded towards Dimitri, who grinded his teeth in an annoyed response. "Shouldn't we actually get British Airways on the phone now and cancel the flight?"

"And if they ask for proof?" Dimitri responded pressingly. "What would we do then? We have no actual aural or written evidence."

"Come on," Calum scoffed. "These days, at the slightest mention of a bomb threat, Russian Airlines go nuts and cancels the flight."

"But how would you account for this cancelation, even if it did work eh?" Erin asked, backing up Dimitri much to Calum's surprise and horror. "Towers and the Gavriks' would realise someone had blabbed and Dimitri would be the first, obvious suspect."

Calum sighed before shrugging, "Yeah, I know it's dangerous for him, but he put himself in the situation in the first place." Dimitri wondered whether both his colleagues had forgotten that he was actually in their presence, as both were glaring daggers at each other. "And let's not forget that our job is to protect the country's interests. Stopping that plane and preventing complete anarchy between Britain, America and Russia is protecting its interests. I for one cannot see any other way of exposing this plot in the time we have."

"There's always another way." Erin told him firmly, finally whipping round to look at Dimitri. "Surely you know the identity of the suicide bomber. If we can get to him…"

Dimitri heaved out a huge, stressed breath of air, and wiped a hand over his tired eyes, "I don't. I really wish I did, but I don't. Not even Towers knows. That is the one thing that Ilya Gavrik is keeping close to his chest."

"So much for there being another way." Calum muttered, but looking almost as hassled as Dimitri by this moment, and he shoved his notepad and pen back into his pocket and flung his arms to the top of his head, running his palms over his hair as he always did when he was stressed. It was a trait that Erin now noted was quite similar to Tariq Masood, in the short time that she had known him before he died.

"We'll find something." Erin repeated in a softer tone this time, quite aware that her subordinate had been thrown quite in the deep end this time. "We'll find a way."

"And I think there is one." Dimitri suddenly spoke up, so quietly that they almost missed it. But both pairs off eyes rapidly turned to survey him, eagerly awaiting his newfound plan. However, Erin was most alarmed by how grave his face and tone of voice appeared. In fact, there was such an aged sadness in his eyes that she knew this way was not going to satisfy all parties. Silence drifted over the room as Dimitri fought for the right words in which to confess his plan, and Erin and Calum waited almost impatiently.

"Right. What is the solution then?" Calum asked eventually, giving up entirely on his limited patience. The younger man's eyes were so wide and eager, that Dimitri almost could not stand to look into them, and so he bowed his head softly, clasping his hands tightly in his lap.

"I think it's time to call Harry." He uttered quietly, and this time Calum heard very well the soberness in his usually bright, confident tone. Calum looked towards Erin in confusion, but her eyes were too clouded with worry, and entirely fixed on Dimitri to pay him the slightest ounce attention, and so his own eyes were drawn back to his male colleague. Dimitri slipped the mobile from his jacket pocket and slowly began to press the required digits.

**Even though it was HR-less and shorter than usual I still hoped you liked this. And not to worry, I promise there will be a Harry and Ruth goodness-filled chapter within the next few days! Please review :)**


	46. Chapter 46

**I said I'd update within the next few days so here it is! Okay so... very long chapter here. Apologies if I've rambled. I tend to do that with HR. This chapter is essentially HR fluff/comfort and tenderness - not a great deal of plot, although there is some - just to keep everyone happy (hopefully). Thank you so much to all those who reviewed the last chapter - they were all really encouraging. I hope you enjoy this and please review to let me know what you think! :)**

Harry had never been a particularly deep sleeper. On the contrary, his number of years spent serving in the armed forces had led to him being an incredibly light sleeper, waking up at the slightest disturbance; a factor which came in great handy when you were a spook. Harry could recall a number of times, particularly in Northern Ireland and Berlin, in which his light sleeping habits had been his saving grace from almost certain death. His senses must have been a little rusty these days however, as it took him a good few seconds for his mind to focus and determine what it was that had woken him. It was the distinct buzzing of a phone, although he didn't recognise it as his. It took him a further few seconds to remember all that had occurred within the last forty-eight hours or so, which answered the question as to why he was in a strange house, in a strange bed and with an unfamiliar phone buzzing. He automatically tried to lift his left hand in order to rub his tired eyes and rid them of hindering sleep, but to his surprise he could not move it. Harry frowned confusedly but stopped more or less immediately when he discovered the reason for his apparent paralysis.

Ruth was lying, quite contentedly asleep, curled into him, her head snuggled into his shoulder, with her back crushing his left arm. He did not mind one bit though; his heart melted at the mere sight of her peaceful form, a small smile displaying upon her lips, snuggled unworriedly and without the slightest fear, into his side. Her own left hand was splayed adorably above her face, whilst her right rested carefully on her baby bump. It was the first time he had seen her sleep so untroubled and completely at peace, and it brought a rush of warmth into his heart as he dared to hope that he might possibly be the reason for this. He noted that his right hand was wrapped tightly around her waist, just as it had been when they had drifted off, in a bid to make her feel safe.

Harry could have gazed upon this angel for hours, but the unfamiliar phone buzzed insistently, and he turned his head reluctantly to the direction where the noise was emitting from. His eyes landed on the phone that Dimitri had handed to him, which was thankfully on silent, but still buzzing away on the bedside table. As much as he wanted to drift back into the lulling depths of sleep with Ruth in his arms, he knew that there were more pressing matters that had to be addressed and the caller was likely to be Dimitri trying to keep him up to date. So sighing, he slowly withdrew his hand from around Ruth's waist, and gently manoeuvred her to one side so that he could retrieve his now numb left arm. She whimpered softly, and the small smile threatened to slip; her eyelids began to flutter slowly to indicate awakening, and Harry hastily hushed her back to sleep, stroking her hair gently and pressing a small kiss to her still bandaged head.

"Sshh," he whispered softly. "It's nothing to worry about… I'm here… you're safe… go back to sleep sweetheart."

Ruth settled almost immediately, still apparently exhausted from their recent debacle, and Harry sensed it was safe to get up off the bed and retrieve the phone. He did so after stroking her cheek one last time, and he closed the door, carrying the phone into what could be construed as a sitting room, despite the fact that there was only a mouldy sofa and a small plain coffee table as furnishings. Still, he hadn't exactly been expecting the Hilton.

He hunted for the answer button on the unfamiliar device after he recognised Dimitri's operations number, and pressed it quickly. However, after years in the service, he was not so stupid as to speak first and he waited patiently for Dimitri, or whoever was on the other end of the line to make the first contact.

"Harry?" Dimitri's familiar voice sounded through the phone, but Harry did not breathe out a sigh of relief yet. He had to check where the younger man's loyalty lay, so still he made no reply, waiting for confirmation that he was indeed alone. Dimitri must have sensed the reason for Harry's non-committal reply because he spoke swiftly, "I'm not with Towers nor the Gavriks. I'm currently at Doghouse 3 with Erin and Calum. Please, just trust me."

Harry took a few seconds to deliberate what to do before he sighed and muttered quietly into the phone, "It doesn't look like I have much of a choice."

"Harry." Dimitri repeated, sounding apparently very relieved to hear the other man's voice. "Thank God it's you. I was beginning to think that you'd been captured by the police and you were someone else entirely."

"Do give me credit where it's due Dimitri." Harry yawned tiredly.

"Are you okay?" Dimitri asked concernedly, hearing the lilt in Harry's voice.

"I'm fine – just tired, that's all. Then again, I have been awake for over forty-eight hours, been beaten to a pulp by some treasonous bastards and had my name dragged through the dirt after thirty years of service for my country."

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Dimitri said urgently, "How's Ruth?"

"She's…" Harry hesitated, thinking about the fever a few hours ago and how anxious he had been, but then his mind was drawn to the contented smile that Ruth now wore on her face in the next room. He brightened up considerably just thinking about it. "She's actually okay Dimitri." He smiled softly. "She had a fever, but I think it's more or less gone down now. I think it was just exhaustion. Gavrik and his henchmen didn't exactly give her an easy ride."

"I know," Dimitri replied, sounding genuinely grievous. "If I could have done anything, I would, but my cover-"

"You've done more than enough for us Dimitri." Harry said gratefully, cutting off the end of the younger man's justification. "We got away – Ruth appears to be okay, I'll live, the baby's fine – we owe you that victory at least. But just so you know," he said, half quipping, half entirely serious. "If you're misleading us, I will kill you."

"I promise you I'm not." The young man's voice answered and it sounded genuinely sincere. "But I accept that fate anyway… wait…" Dimitri said, suddenly hesitating and Harry could hear hushed words in the background. "Erin wants a word."

"Put your phone on loudspeaker so I can talk to her." Harry told him and Dimitri complied obediently, a beep sounding to indicate that he had done just this.

"Harry?" Erin's firm reassuring voice came surprisingly as a great relief to Harry, who had not known what to believe over the past few days.

"Erin, you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice." Harry sighed, wiping another hand over his tired eyes. "Please just assure me that you're not working for the Gavriks' or Towers'."

"I'm not." Erin replied strongly in a no nonsense tone that Harry knew was the complete and utter truth.

"Thank God for that." He said, more to himself than for anyone else's benefit.

"Harry, how are you? How's Ruth?" Erin asked in a voice similarly urgent to Dimitri's, and Harry could not help but feel slightly proud at the loyalty these officers had and were displaying towards he and Ruth, even after the service and the Government had written them off. "Di said she collapsed."

"She did," He replied softly, trying to keep as quiet as possible in order to avoid disturbing Ruth. He wondered briefly whether he should wake her, considering that she would probably want to talk to Erin and others, but then he went along with his own diagnosis that she should keep on sleeping – she and the baby needed rest. "Like I said to Dimitri, I think it was primarily the result of exhaustion. She had a large cut to the forehead as well which probably didn't help. I patched her up when we arrived and she's having a good long sleep. I think that's what she needs the most to recover."

"There's nothing wrong with the baby is there?" Erin questioned, still sounding anxious.

"I… I don't think so," Harry said nervously, biting his lip. "It's still kicking on occasion, and when Ruth came around a few hours ago, she had a headache and she was a bit disorientated, but she didn't seem to be in any pain… well… in _that_ way."

Erin seemed mostly satisfied by this reply, "That sounds okay. As long as those bastards didn't hurt her. Trust me, being banged around when you're approaching your final month of pregnancy is not good for the baby at all."

"I know," Harry said worriedly. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't actually had much of a response from Ruth about what happened in the interval between being captured and when they were thrown together in that horribly cold, damp, dark room. "She insisted she hadn't been hurt in any… intimate way or otherwise." He said, more too convince himself than Erin. "I have no doubt though that had Dimitri not been there… well… I can't even imagine what might have happened to the both of us." He frowned and growled, "Actually scrap that… I know full well what Gavrik and his cronies would have done. It's actually probably a good thing that Towers and Dimitri arrived when they did. I can now see that Towers is a slimy, bent, money-obsessed bastard who has no qualms with international terrorism if it suits his interests, but he couldn't stand the vulgarity of torture."

"Do you really think that's what they'd have done to you and Ruth?" Erin gulped, sounding absolutely horrified at the mere thought of such a thing. Harry thought suddenly that her voice contained the same disgust but naivety that Ruth's did when they discovered the truth behind the Cotterdam fire five years ago. Oh how things had changed, he thought. Ruth had grown up more in five years than he had in twenty, and he could see Erin doing the same.

"I would say it was greatly possible." Harry answered dryly, and although he was telling Erin this now, he would have adamantly refused to admit this to Ruth back in that darkened cell. He had to admit that whilst Superman's weakness was Kryptonite, his was Ruth, and he would have done, and would continue to do anything in order to protect her. "Ilya Gavrik and the Russians had no problems with torture in order to get their own way back in the Cold War."

"Shit." Erin vented her horror in a hushed voice, before she paused. "Harry?" she asked, suddenly sounding nervous. "Do you… I mean… are we right to trust Dimitri?" Harry could now see why she sounded so guilty – she was asking a rightfully private question in Dimitri's presence, which can't have been particularly comfortable.

Harry sighed, unsure of what to say. His sense of judgement, which he had once considered impeccable had been completely destroyed within the space of a few days, "Erin, I honestly don't think you're asking the right person. Up until twenty four hours ago, I thought we had a sarcastic, but honest Home Secretary, I thought Elena Gavrik was an innocent target of my spook abilities but it turned out that she wasn't an asset at all but a traitor, and I thought our Government was reasonably alright, but it just goes to show you can't trust politicians. And just to top it all off, I discovered that one of my best officers was involved in the plot."

"I wasn't involved." Dimitri's voice pleaded again. "I was trying to help."

"And I'm inclined to trust you," Harry admitted. "But can't you see dilemma you've put yourself in, going into the field as an undercover or triple agent, and not reporting to Erin?"

"Look, I knew this wasn't going to be a picnic." Dimitri sighed, in an attempt to justify himself, but Harry could tell by the reservation in his voice that he was nervous about the flaws in his plan that Harry was about to point out."

"Either way Dimitri, things are going to look bad for you," Harry told him as gently but firmly as possible. "We need to stop that bomb going off in that plane and causing chaos, and as it is, I can't think offhand of a way of stopping it. And even if we do, Towers and the Gavriks' are quite rightfully going to suspect you, and I have no doubt they will come after you. If, by some chance we can manage to stop these bastards, then they will take you down with them. As far as they're concerned, you're working for them, and if you weren't reporting to anyone, then the courts are going to think likewise."

There was a pause, and Harry could just tell that Dimitri had not thought out all of these consequences. Erin's voice took over the conversation again, sounding very scared indeed. "Look Harry, we'll find a way. It's like Ruth always said when you were suspended the first time round – there's always a solution to everything. We'll find a way to save you and Ruth, we'll keep Dimitri out of trouble and we'll stop that bloody bomb."

Harry smiled, seeing the impact that his dearest Ruth had had on this woman in just a short amount of time. Harry frowned as he realised what he'd just thought – _his_ Ruth? Since when had she become _his_ Ruth? But he so badly wanted her to be, and he had to admit, if this wasn't a relationship they were in, then it was a strange kind of friendship. "Ruth said that?" he asked, smiling softly.

"Yes." Erin replied stoutly, and Harry could see that this woman whom he had once thought power-hungry and moody, was actually shielding a brilliant spook, whom along with Dimitri (when he didn't do stupid things) had the potential to become one of the brightest and best.

"Then it's obviously right." Harry said with renewed vigour, all tiredness now far away. He would by no means let Ruth down. She had always trusted him to make the right decision and to demonstrate integrity and he wasn't going to let them go down without a fight. They were going to stop that damn bomb going off, they were going to expose the corrupt circle of politicians roaming the corridors of Whitehall and the highest reaches of the Intelligence Services, and he was going to see to it personally that this terrorist cell was put out of action.

"Right," Calum's voice suddenly sounded over the phone, and he sounded as brisk and uncomfortable with emotion as ever. "If we're over with the niceties, can we get to the point? How exactly are we going to stop this bloody bomb? We've already eradicated a few possibilities, and personally I think we should just ring up the company and warn them of a terrorist threat-"

"What, and panic the Russians?" Harry spluttered, vetoing Calum's idea immediately. "If they get a call from MI5, firstly it's going to put Dimitri at risk because no doubt the ambassador will hear about this; the ambassador is Ilya Gavrik and they'll put two and two together to make the right answer as to whom has sold them out. But majorly, there is the risk that calling the airline company and telling them to expect a suicide bomber will panic them; will think MI5 has something to do with it because of the call and that'll put a strain on this damn Anglo-Russian Treaty, which Ilya Gavrik wants in the first place. In doing that, he'll just get his own way."

"Well the airline needs to know – we can't just leave it! And I'd love to hear if you've got any better ideas. Surely it's better to stop the bomb and save lives than worry about this treaty! " Calum mumbled mutinously before he said, "Dimitri told us he had an idea, but he was waiting to talk to you first."

"What?" Harry demanded immediately.

"It's the only solution I can think of," Dimitri said quietly, and Harry could hear a kind of fear in his voice. What on earth was the young man thinking of now? "But if we do warn the company, and they ask for proof – it's the only way think would be most realistic."

"What?" Harry demanded again, well aware that they were short on time.

"Use me." Dimitri said shortly. "Like you said, I'm compromised anyway. What if I 'admit' that I'm part of the terror cell. But I'm uncomfortable… I've got cold feet over the whole matter… I don't know, something like that… but it's basically the truth. I tell them everything. I've got proof – call lists and stuff– if that's enough not to cancel the flight and set an investigation into everything I don't know what it is."

"Dimitri no," Erin said in a raised, shocked voice, a trace of tears evident. "No you can't do that. It's suicide. They'd lock you up."

"But they'd launch an investigation into the cell – I'd be sent down, but so would the Gavriks', Towers, and there'd be a rehashing of the Government and MI5 – I think it'd work."

"No there's another way," Erin argued loudly, and Harry sighed, running his hand over his eyes, suddenly feeling a lot older, and a sense of déjà vu. How many officers had to give up their lives and their freedom for their country. The most important one came to mind – his darling Ruth, who was curled up only in the next room, fortunately completely oblivious to all this. For he knew that she'd argue with Dimitri as well – tell him that there was another way even though it would be completely hypocritical, because they both knew she had done the same; to save her country and to save him from a life sentence. But he, Harry… he was a former head of counter terrorism and he knew that needs must – he knew these things had to happen for the greater good. It was that awful moral dilemma – what his heart was telling him and what his head was ordering him to do.

"There's not." Dimitri was insisting whilst Harry tried to block out his former colleague's raised voices. "Harry, you're silent." The young man's voice turned to him for support, and Harry knew why Dimitri had waited to call him first. Because he knew that he, Harry, would not deny that this was the best plan they had on short notice. "When you're silent, it means you're contemplating… that you're not against this plan. Do you think it's a good idea?"

Harry could feel his breathing getting heavier as once again, even though he was disgraced from his country and the service, even though he was no longer section head, the burden of the executive decision landed on him. And he hated that burden. Suddenly he could take it no more, and he snapped loudly at Dimitri, "I don't bloody know if it's a good idea! I'm not bloody Superman! I'm in the worst position possible to tell you what to do! But you knew that I couldn't refuse to admit that it could work, even though you know what it'd do to your family, your friends, your loved ones!"

Dimitri argued back, it sounding as though his own temper was firing up, "Yes, because I knew that if it was you, you'd do the same thing! You'd take the blame to save lives, and I know that if I was on the phone now to Ruth, she would try to deny it, but she would also do the same thing. She did do the same thing! We both know Harry that the job takes first priority!"

"Yes, and it damages you Dimitri," Harry hissed angrily, venting his frustrations of the recent months events out on this brave man who did not deserve it. Images of Ruth violated lying naked on her kitchen floor flooded through his mind and he growled with emotion filling his voice, "It damaged, and is damaging Ruth, and it's doing the same to me!"

"Yes, I can see that," Dimitri admitted. "Because ordinarily, you would tell me that I was making the right decision!"

Harry paused, trying to hide the fact that tears were beginning to slowly run down his cheeks, even though he knew that no one could see them. He had to fight to keep the hitch out of his voice, and so he stayed quiet for the moment.

"Harry?" Dimitri said, this time a little quieter, sounding more unsure of himself.

How it had come to this Harry did not know – how had one woman suddenly completely changed his loyalties? Although, if he retreated to the bedroom, woke her up and asked her what to do, he knew what her answer would be.

"I think it's a good plan," Calum's voice sounded, although this did not make the slightest bit of difference to Harry's judgement. "And I don't even trust Admiral pretty boy."

"Harry you can't let him do this." Erin pleaded to him, and Harry closed his eyes, wiping away excess tears. He never cried. What the hell was wrong with him? Even when ex-colleagues and friends died he didn't cry. Even at the funerals of Adam and Ros, to whom he'd been closest to (except Ruth of course)he did not cry, because he was the hard boiled and blooded section head. He determinedly put it down to late grieving at all that had occurred over recent months, or even years, the revelations of yesterday, and the relief that Ruth was alright."

But then he had Ruth's voice in his head, as always, telling him what would be the greater good… the best solution, "What other choice have we Erin?" he replied quietly.

"Harry, are you okay?" Erin asked, but her question was cut short but a sudden bleeping of a phone.

"I'm fine," Harry lied gruffly, clearing his throat loudly and wiping his face furiously with his left hand. "What's that noise?"

There was a rustling at the other end of the line, which sounded like someone digging into their pockets, as he recognised the rubbing of cotton.

"It's my other phone – my normal phone." Dimitri said, his voice muffled which Harry realised was probably because his head was bent looking at his other phone. There was a silence and Dimitri said quietly, "Oh shit."

"What?" Harry demanded, his voice breaking ad he automatically cleared his throat, praying that the other's had not noticed.

"A text from Towers wanting to know where I am – he wants to know why it's taking so long to bandage me up, because he wants me to meet him at his office in Whitehall in half an hour."

"Shit, is he onto you?" Erin asked quickly.

"I don't think so," Dimitri's voice sounded, but he sounded anxious all the same. "It says that plans have been changed, that's all. Harry, I've got to go."

"Don't do anything stupid." Harry warned him. "I mean it."

"We're losing the hours fast." Calum said pointedly.

"I know." Dimitri sighed. "I won't do anything rash until I can update you Harry," he said genuinely.

Harry could only manage a short "Good.", before he rang off and let his emotions get the better of him. He hated himself for crying like a baby, but the tears had suddenly come to overwhelm him, and he just couldn't work out why. Was it all because he could potentially lose another good friend? Or was it because in all likelihood everything was going to go wrong and he and Ruth could be in danger, or have to leave the country again? Could he be crying because of his recent discovery that his own son had violently raped and violated the woman he loved most in the whole world? Was it then guilt that ultimately he had caused her pain by creating Sasha, which rationally he knew was ridiculous, but it hurt all the same. Was he upset that a woman whom he had previously loved and made love to didn't give a care in the world for him, and had lied to compromise him and his judgement for thirty years – she was a terrorist, and had been proud of the fact that their son had attacked Ruth, and that made her in his eyes a psychopath and fanatic; no better than the other terrorists who decided their need and message was greater than the precious lives of ordinary people. Or could he be crying for the injustice of it all – thirty years of service to a country, most of whom didn't give a damn for who he was or what he had achieved, and he was being hunted down for something which he hadn't done, and for a bomb which hadn't yet exploded. And Ruth – that poor girl was being harmed and dragged down with him simply because she had fallen in love with him, and he knew, perhaps better than most, that you just couldn't help who you fell in love with. But then, Harry thought, angrily trying to quell his spasmodic sobs, and furiously swiping at any remaining tears, perhaps he was crying for all of this. And even though his father had sharply told him that men never cried, he did so, and he didn't care.

"Harry?"

Harry almost jumped as he heard that soft, angelic voice he knew so well sounded from the sitting room door. Mentally kicking himself for having woken her, Harry tried to stop crying but now the tears had started they just wouldn't stop. He tried to partially cover his face and hide the tracks of his tears as he looked up to see her, standing vulnerably in the doorway uncertainly, worriedly but most of all lovingly staring at him, still wearing the extra large shirt he had dressed her in earlier. He should have smiled at the delicious sight of her wearing only a shirt; her hair adorably rumpled, and for once looking completely unworried by this appearance, yet for some reason, seeing her only made him cry harder, and he quickly looked away again in shame.

"Harry?" Ruth's voice sounded again, her own voice wobbling at the sight of Harry breaking down in front of her.

Ruth stared horrified at the man she loved as tears completely overwhelmed him. She had been woken by his raised voice, and for a moment she had been absolutely petrified that someone had found them, before she heard Dimitri's name be mentioned and realised that Harry must have been on the phone. Manoeuvring herself with difficulty out of bed due to the size of her baby bump, she had stood slowly and shakily, as one does after a very long sleep, before stepping slowly out of the room towards the direction of Harry's angry-sounding voice.

"I don't bloody know if it's a good idea! I'm not bloody Superman! I'm in the worst position possible to tell you what to do! But you knew that I couldn't refuse to admit that it could work, even though you know what it'd do to your family, your friends, your loved ones!"

Slowly, she had waddled towards a half open door; Harry's voice sounding from inside the room, and she had pushed it open slightly so that she could see him. He had been sitting on a rather moth-eaten sofa, side-on to her, snapping at Dimitri on the other end of the line. Although, she had been able to tell he wasn't just angry; she had seen the beginnings of tears in his eyes; his jaw jumping as it always did when he tried to quell any signal of emotion. She knew that look well. Ruth had heard an equally irate voice, sounding exactly like Dimitri's shouting back incoherently down the phone, before Harry had cried in anguish:

"Yes, and it damages you Dimitri! It damaged, and is damaging Ruth, and it's doing the same to me!"

Ruth had felt tears prickle in her own eyes as he voiced what she had been worrying about for months. He really did consider her to be damaged. And according to him, he had been feeling this too. She had thought about how over recent months he had taken care of her without question; never stopped to think of himself, or how he might be feeling. And she decided she had been selfish; selfish to have not noticed how he might be feeling. She had been so wrapped up in these thoughts that she only returned to the picture before her when she heard him growl shortly, "Good," into the phone before ringing off and throwing the mobile down onto the coffee table in front of him.

There, Ruth had watched frozen in horror as he finally broke down into helpless tears. At first she was scared – she was so used to Harry being the strong one; constantly there, knowing what to do and how to comfort her when the memories, flashbacks and insecurities became too much. Yet here was this ferocious Section Head – the man she loved and adored, his head in his hands, having dissolved into tears, and Ruth could bear it no longer. She voiced his name softly, twice, but he barely seemed able to register her, so she carefully made her way over to him. It was only when she was several inches from him that she became self conscious at how short the shirt seemed and how little she seemed to be wearing, but she forced herself beyond this hindering barrier for now, knowing how much more important Harry was at the moment.

Harry didn't seem to notice or react to her movements as he still had his head in his hands, and she sank down next to him uncertainly on the mouldy sofa, her heart breaking at the sight of his distress from up close. Desperately seeking to comfort him, Ruth reached up and placed her arms tentatively and gently around him, guiding his head towards her shoulder. Initially, he resisted her offerings of comfort but after a few seconds he gave up and followed her gesture willingly, more or less collapsing into her arms. She cradled his head against her shoulder with one hand, and used to other to rub his back soothingly. Occasionally Ruth would whisper gentle words of love and comfort, but realised that they sounded rather bland and unhelpful, so eventually she stopped and just held him in silence, allowing Harry to release all of his pent up emotions. Ruth couldn't help but worry about what would happen when the heart-breaking sobbing stopped – would he retreat from her and say something as unbelievable as 'it's just the wind Ruth' – she remembered that time on the rooftop oh so well. But then, how could she dare to press him when he had been so good, kind and gentle with her? And it would be hypocritical to do such a thing considering she hid many of her worries and emotions deep inside herself. There were many things about that horrible night, almost seven months ago, that she had not told him, nor did she think she ever could. Reliving those memories would bring everything back, and before all this chaos, she had recently been starting to look forward to a new life with Harry and the baby. Resolving to just be there for him as he had with her, she continued to cradle him gently.

Ruth did not know how long she held him for, but eventually the crying began to subside, and Harry came to his senses, gently disengaging himself from her; wiping his reddened eyes with his forefinger and thumb, and clearing his throat embarrassedly. Ruth said nothing but let him go as if she had touched red hot fire as he pulled away, the embarrassment at her state of dress overcoming her again. She felt increasingly uncomfortable as once Harry had restored himself to his usual calm and collective self in a surprisingly swift moment, he looked towards her out of the corner of his eye. Ruth was considering clambering to her feet and retreating to the bedroom again when he cleared his throat and said in a gruff voice that was the only remaining sign that he had been crying:

"Sorry to have woken you."

"That's alright." She said softly, trying to portray through her voice, rather than eye contact that she could understand his need to cry. Ruth was sure that she had been doing more than her fair share over recent months and knew that even men like Harry had too have a good cry every now and then. Harry now turned fully to stare at her – that eagle eye gaze that made her wonder if he could see into the very depths of her soul. She shifted uncomfortably under his intense watch and he automatically stopped and looked away again. Knowing that for once in her life she was going to have to initiate the first move, Ruth took a deep breath and shifted closer to him so that her hand slipped through his and rested hesitantly on his knee. Surprised, Harry looked round at her quickly, but he made no attempt to speak for fear of ruining this rare intimate moment. "Are…" she tried quietly. "Are you okay?"

Harry's head shot around again to look away from her as he snapped more aggressively than he intended, "Yes."

Ruth winced involuntarily at the forcefulness in his voice, even though she knew he hadn't meant to sound so ferocious. She had pretty much been expecting something to the effect of that answer, but it didn't make the rejection hurt any less. However, desperately wanting to lighten his burden and comfort him in the best way she could, Ruth pressed on:

"You were crying Harry," she stated softly, squeezing his hand gently in an attempt to get him to look at him. "You're not okay. And by the sounds of it you've needed to let all those tears fall for a long time. So… so please tell me what's wrong."

Harry's tone was a little less forceful this time, but he still did not return his gaze to her as he replied stubbornly, "Look, I'm fine now, really. You've got enough problems to worry about. You don't need mine burdening you as well."

Ruth could tell that this was just the embarrassment at her seeing him cry talking, but it still hurt a lot. She wondered just what 'problems' she apparently had, as the word 'damaged' he had used earlier, returned to the forefront of her mind. She remembered how happy they had been earlier; curled up to him, she had felt truly more safe and alive than she ever had in the past few months – perhaps even years. But now she bowed her head so that her hurt expression was not visible, released her hand from around his and got to her feet. Ruth began to walk carefully towards the door, and it was only when she reached this destination that Harry said so softly that it was virtually incoherent.

"I'm sorry sweetheart."

Ruth stopped in her tracks, her hand frozen on the unfamiliar, ancient brass doorknob, but did not yet turn around.

"It's a habit that is very hard to break." He added quietly, and she knew he was referring to the snapping, and concealing of his emotions. "And I think we both know that… probably better than anyone."

Ruth appreciated and understood his explanation, but could not think what he was really asking her to do. Harry hadn't made any specific demands, but then he never did – ever since the attack he had been very careful not to broach certain subjects and would never do anything that was not of her will. So she just stood, feeling something of a metaphorical nakedness, as she could feel his eyes upon her. Harry then seemed to sense her confusion and insecurities for he said quietly:

"Could you… would you please… sit with me here for a moment?"

If it was possible, Ruth thought her heart might have broken yet again at hearing him sound so vulnerable, as opposed to the normally strong, confident man she knew. Still feeling a little bare, she turned a little so that she could see his face. Harry was staring pleadingly back at her, and with those deep, beautiful hazel eyes, Ruth knew that she could never refuse him.

"Please, humour an old fool?" he added, with those gorgeous puppy dog eyes.

Smiling tentatively, she obediently, she waddled back to him, aware that her back was beginning to ache again, but really not caring at this moment in time. She settled herself back onto the sofa, and this time it was Harry who moved his hand so that it was entwined with hers.

"You're not old." She told him, her lips still forming that shy smile that he found utterly adorable.

"Oh yes I am," He argued, removing his hand from hers and bringing it around her shoulders, pulling her gently towards him. She made no objections; on the contrary, she enjoyed being in his arms – it had always made her feel safe and wanted… and loved. "I'm a grumpy, miserable old man and I don't know why you put up with me."

"You know why I love you," She said, turning to look at him in the eyes so that he knew she was being sincere. "Because you're kind and gentle, and loving, and generally marvellous."

"But by no means perfect." He added shamefully, now looking away, and she knew he was referencing his recent outburst and tears.

"Harry," Ruth said quietly, reaching up and tentatively resting a hand on his cheek, bringing his gaze back to her. "Crying doesn't make you imperfect; quite the opposite in fact. Tears show that you are human just like the rest of us. You don't permanently have to be the strong section head just because… well… just because of me."

As she lowered her hand from his cheek, Harry captured it in his own hand and kissed it gently. "I know that I've probably let you down."

"No," Ruth replied firmly and genuinely before smiling slightly. "Sometimes you've got to take your own advice Harry. You told me when… when I was in the hospital after… the attack that I was well within me rights to have a good cry. You've been so good to me over these past few months, I reckon you've been neglecting your own need to cry."

Harry didn't reflect her smile, "I'm supposed to look after you." He said softly, reaching up to stroke her smooth, pale cheeks.

"But it's a two-way street Harry. You have a right to cry sometimes as well, and I have to step up and take care of you. I'm not an invalid." She added a little defensively, blushing at her forwardness. It had been a long time since she had chastised Harry. Harry on the other hand could not help but smile at this; it was like having the old Ruth back. The wonderful Ruth who would always contradict him on the grid if she disagreed with his methods or choices.

"I know that." He replied quickly, before adding. "But I don't cry a lot – you just learn not to in this job. I… I suppose I'm a little ashamed that you had to see me on one of those occasions."

"It.. it did scare me at first." Ruth admitted quietly. "And then I realised how selfish I was being. You've leant me a shoulder to cry on for months and months; been there for me when I needed you. I haven't really done the same for you."

"Don't be ridiculous." Harry scoffed, gently removing a rebelling strand of hair from her face, and placing it behind her ear. "You don't even know the meaning of the word selfish. You're the most unselfish person I know. You've needed the help and… and I am glad that you let me go through this with you."

"Harry," Ruth asked, a little nervous of his reaction, but determined to help him get things off his chest. "Why were you so upset?" When Harry opened his mouth to argue, Ruth knew that he was about to recount the same argument – that she was going through enough without worrying about his problems as well – so she said slowly, "I know I'm probably going to seem hypocritical for saying this but… but I think… or at least… I've heard that… that when you're in a relationship, you're supposed to support and… and talk to each other."

Harry stared at her, an odd mixture of adoration and confusion written across his face. They had never said outright that they were in a relationship. He supposed they had always just assumed they were. Even when on the grid, the general consensus had been that he and Ruth were in a problematic, yet sort-of relationship. "Are we…" Harry checked with her. "Are we in a relationship Ruth?"

Ruth looked a little startled, and then a little panicky at his question, "Well… well I… I thought… we… we are in a relationship… aren't we?" she asked, now looking incredibly uncertain, and Harry noticed that she had tensed slightly under his touch.

Unable to describe how happy he was that she felt the same way, Harry was quick to assure her, "Yes, of course we are."

Ruth offered a brief, relieved smile and relaxed a little, but Harry found he could not reciprocate her expression. He after all had a long and difficult explanation ahead; he now understood how much harder it had been for Ruth to talk to him over the past few months. In a way, it illustrated to him just how far she had strengthened and become more confident and open towards other human beings, or him at least.

"You're not hypocritical Ruth." Harry assured her again, pulling her a little closer so that her head rested comfortably on his shoulder, and he felt comforted by the fact that her right hand rested itself, a little nervously at first, against his heart. "you had to describe something quite horrific, and it's understandable that you didn't want to talk about everything. Me on the other hand… I hide things because that is what I have become accustomed to over the years… because of the job… and my damn pride."

Ruth said nothing this time, allowing him to talk to her at whatever speed he chose; instead she reached up and kissed his cheek – something which he couldn't help but smile at.

"You turn me into a softy Ruth Evershed." He whispered, before thinking how to explain his sudden bout of tears.

"Dimitri called," he told her eventually, whilst she sat snuggled next to him, listening. "Wanting to know how you were, and also, to discuss how to stop that damn plane from blowing up and causing destruction over London." Still, Ruth said nothing and listened in silence, which made things admittedly a little easier for him, so he continued, absently stroking her soft dark hair. "From what I can see, he's dug himself a right hole in going into the field as a triple agent, without reporting to anyone on the grid, so even if we bring this whole cell down, which is unlikely in itself, it's going to drag him down as well. And now… he's come up with this idea which would… admittedly probably serve as great proof to stop the plane from setting off, and possibly even stop this cell but…" he trailed off, trying to find the right words.

"But what?" Ruth asked softly.

"But…" Harry sighed. "He'd spend his life in prison – for something he didn't do. Dimitri wants to admit to the authorities that he's in on the terrorist plot – he said he had proof from call lists , but there's no way we could use them without implicating Dimitri. We could send the Gavriks and Towers, and all the other corrupt waste in the Government down, but they could probably take him… and us, down with them."

He looked down at Ruth, hoping for her to put in some helpful words on what exactly was the right decision.

"Oh Dimitri…" she whispered softly. At Harry's pleading look, she could see his dilemma. Was it worth allowing Dimitri to go to prison and maybe even Erin and Calum, to stop this disturbance of the Russian Treaty. And she and Harry were safe here for now, but for how much longer? "I can't pretend that I wouldn't do the same thing," she said quietly to Harry, who nodded in agreement. "Because I already did it once." She recalled life with George and Nico – she had been happy enough, and she had cared about them both dearly, but it had been like living life in a fairy tale, and she had known what the consequences would have been had she returned to London. "But it's… it's not fair Harry."

"I know." He replied tenderly, continuing to stroke her hair. "He must have thought I was quite mad blowing up at him like that. It wasn't his fault at all. But I just thought about all those other officers who had given their lives for this bloody job – to save a country which in actuality probably couldn't give a damn. I mean, look what happened to poor Zoe." Ruth nodded quietly, reaching out and squeezing his hand gently. "And apparently there's virtually a price over our heads – this is the country we save," he ranted bitterly. "A country which even though you save their lives daily, they'd sooner turn you in for a healthy sum." Ruth frowned at the vulgarity of the comment but still said nothing, allowing him to get it off his chest. "And I find it somehow ironic, that after all these years in the service – after admittedly killing… well… more than I should in revenge or for necessity… I'm probably going to be arrested for something I haven't done."

"Oh Harry." Ruth whispered miserably, her heart breaking at hearing him sound so hopeless and without a purpose. She knew it was killing him to be stuck here hiding, when he would rather be out helping Dimitri and the others take down this cell. She reached up to touch his cheek again, but this time he caught her hand in his own and held it gently.

"But the worst part," Harry confessed, gazing at her with sad, ashamed eyes. "Is that you're being dragged down with me. You've never done anything wrong, you did your job perfectly and without fault, and because of our… relationship, and the baby, it's being made to look as if you're helping me. So even though you're completely innocent in all this, if they catch you, you'll be in as much trouble as me, and that's just… impossibly unfair."

"I'm not perfect Harry," Ruth tried to tell him softly, but he still looked stubborn. "And I'm not the… innocent child you sometimes assume me to be either."

"But you're a _good_ person." Harry said firmly, placing extra emphasis on the 'good' to illustrate his view of her. "Far better than me, and you don't deserve this fate." He suddenly reached his other arm around her so that she was being held firmly but gently in his embrace, cuddled against his chest. "I've done this job a very long time, and I've lived even longer. But in my life, I've never felt as… grievous as on that night when I found you… after the… attack. That was the worst moment of my life." Harry's voice was so low and gruff now, that Ruth swore he was trying to hide any trace of tears that might be present, but she didn't dare question him about it. Instead, she clung tighter to his hand and continued to listen, trying hard not to let the images that he was recalling take a proper hold of her mind. As she had been trying to do lately, she allowed them to pass mistily across her memory. "To see you in such a state… and then to find out about the baby… it was a lot to take in, and I realised just how much you were hurting because of me. And to cause you such pain – that's the last thing I ever wanted or ever will want to do."

"It wasn't your fault Harry." Ruth whispered sadly, her own eyes beginning to fill with tears at hearing Harry's heart-breaking confession, and with the concentration of forcing such horrible memories to pass. "I was targeted from the start. There was nothing you could have done to stop it."

Harry produced a doubtful, watery smile, "But you see sweetheart, I _do_ feel guilty. Everyday since that night… I've been unable to get those images from my mind. And then I see you… trying so hard to move on with your life… and I know that even though you've been a spook for only a third of the time I have… you're the braver person."

"Don't be ridiculous Harry." Ruth said, in a surprisingly confident tone that made Harry stop to listen. "You're the most marvellous, and bravest man I've ever met."

"You know what _is_ ridiculous?" Harry continued, and Ruth almost wanted to stop him from beating himself up like this any further. Why couldn't he see the brilliant man she saw? "It hurt – not so much that Elena – a woman I once loved and trusted, and thought of as the victim, was actually playing me all along to compromise me – but more so that our son… a man whose genes are half mine… did such a… vile thing to you. And… it just makes me feel… and I know it's silly… that I… that _I_… hurt you." At this point, Harry had to finally let go of Ruth and cover his eyes and secretly wipe them.

This time, Ruth didn't look away. Nor did she move to stop him. For some reason, at seeing him so vulnerable, it made her feel slightly stronger and more in control of the situation. The man she adored had more guilt and worry on his shoulders than she could ever have imagined, and she needed to make sure that he knew all of these things were not his fault.

"Harry." She said softly, but firmly. "You never intentionally hurt me. These past few months, you've been unbelievably tender and understanding – you've looked after me and the baby without any thought for yourself. And it _is_ ridiculous that you feel you… r… raped me…" Harry removed the hand from his eyes and studied her face in surprise. That was the first time she had uttered the actual word 'raped' since the attack. She stuttered the word but she spoke firmly and coherently in an attempt to comfort him. "just because your son shares your DNA. You wouldn't ever hurt a woman like that Harry… I know it. None of these things are your fault. You've done quite the opposite Harry. Even after everything – not only the attack, but the fact that we're now on the run… lately… I've probably been happier than I have in a long time. You've made me feel loved… and safe… and wanted… which is more than any man has ever done for me."

Harry was now staring at her in complete adoration, all traces of his tears gone, and he had to admit, he felt a whole lot more lighter. Her realistic approach to the subject was much more like his old Ruth, and he couldn't help but love that.

Ruth didn't quite know how to finish her speech, and she was becoming a little nervous at the way Harry was looking at her, so she blushed and looked away, almost whispering, "You're… you're a good man Harry. And we'll find a way to stop the plane. There's always a way."

Harry almost burst out laughing as she uttered the exact statement Erin had sworn she had said to her. But instead, he let out a small chuckle and pulled her fully towards him, half lying on the sofa; much to her surprise, she landed almost on top of him, giving a small shriek at her descent. Suddenly realising that they were in a rather compromising position, and that if he was less protective and caring of her, it would be possible to look up her shirt, Harry gazed worriedly at Ruth. However, much to his surprise, she was just quietly laughing from her place on his chest, although a hand was placed carefully on her baby bump to ensure no harm came to it.

"Thank you." He said gently to her once they had sobered. "I'm the luckiest man in the world to have you by my side at such a god-awful time."

Ruth smiled back at him, a little shyly, "Me too," she then frowned as she realised what she had said. "The luckiest woman I mean… to… to have you."

Harry chuckled again and reached over to kiss her nose, which made her blush even more profusely, and she made to get up from her place on his chest. He felt a little bereft without her there, but could understand that he had to take physical contact slowly with her, and so he automatically followed her actions, also sitting back up. Once he was vertical again, he looked over to see her gasping slightly, a hand held across her stomach.

"Are you alright?" he asked immediately concerned, wondering if she had put too much pressure on her abdomen whilst lying with him briefly.

To his relief she nodded, quick to assure him, "It's okay… the baby's just… just having a kick fest."

"Are you sure?" Harry double checked, trying not to think about what would happen if she suddenly collapsed and went into labour here.

She let out another winded breath before she closed her eyes and nodded satisfactorily again. "Yes." Ruth looked a little more confident in her answer this time and Harry could not help but breath a loud sigh of relief.

"Harry…" Ruth whispered, suddenly looking a lot less self-assured than she had been a few moments ago. "What happens if… if we have to leave the country… I mean… if that's the only way out… worst case scenario and that?"

"Then we'll deal with it." Harry said firmly, squeezing her hand tightly. "'There's always a way' and all that." He repeated her earlier words to emphasise the point to her.

"And if we have the baby in a foreign country?" she asked, still looking slightly perturbed.

"Same answer." Harry replied before squeezing her hand encouragingly. "Come on… where did strong, lecturing Ruth go?"

Ruth could not help but produce a smile, "Right… you're right… of course."

Harry was just about to say something along the course of 'I'm always right', when he realised jut how inappropriate that might sound given that they'd just been talking about his insecurities. Nevertheless, it was extraordinary at how much weight he felt had been lifted off his shoulders. He was still deeply immersed in these thoughts when he heard Ruth's stomach rumble rather loudly.

"Food I think." He said decisively to her. "Think you can manage some… wait… what time is it?"

Having had his watch and all other devices removed by Gavrik and his cronies, he had lost all sense of time. He leant forward and checked the phone Dimitri had handed to him and discovered that it was already about six o'clock.

"Fancy some dinner?" he amended, before adding humorously. "Not that there is much variation on the menu. I looked through the cupboards earlier and the only things actually within date are cans of chicken soup."

"Chicken soup sounds good." Ruth agreed a little shyly. "But I'll make it."

"You're supposed to be resting." He objected sternly.

"I'm much better… really. And you look like you could really do with a shower and a change of clothes."

Harry sighed, knowing that she was right, but despite what she had said earlier, was determined to let her rest for the remainder of the pregnancy. Not to mention the fact that mere hours ago, she had been in bed with an awful fever. "That's true. How about a compromise? I made the soup, then have a shower."

Ruth was going to object, saying that she knew how to heat a simple tin of soup, but thought better of it, knowing that Harry was only trying to help, and so she nodded. "Okay." She smiled softly. The smile widened considerably when he kissed her gently on the lips before getting up off the sofa and heading towards the kitchen.

**Harry's been very good with Ruth and I thought it only natural that his emotions would come to the surface eventually - and not always at the best moment. Still, they're looking after each other. There shouldn't be, but apologies if there are any mistakes (letters missing etc) because my computer keys have been sticking/not working (again). I'll try my best to update asap! I really hope you enjoy this chapter. Please review xx**


	47. Chapter 47

**So sorry it's a little short, and I feel I must apologise for the fact that this chapter is entirely Dimitri, Erin and Calum-based (mostly Dimitri), with appearances from Ilya and Towers. I just felt that with it being a month since I updated, I ought to at least upload something, especially since I am kind of celebrating the fact that on the 8th, I shall have been writing this fic for a whole year. Oh dear, that just makes me think I've really dragged this story out. Apologies if I have! Even so, there is quite a bit of plot exposition is this, so if you're interested in that, please don't hesitate to read. The good news is that I shall try to update within the next week for the solution to this chapter, and with more HR goodness. It should be an extra-long one. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter all the same, and I would love to know what you think. Thank you to all those lovely reviews and the encouraging messages - they reall spurred me on, even with significant writers block. :)**

Dimitri, Erin and Calum strode hastily down the hospital corridors, now fast approaching the exit. Their duration at the hospital had been longer than any of them had intended, and if all was going to go according to plan – if eventually they did formulate some coherent plan – then they would have to hurry. Calum paced purposefully ahead whilst Erin and Dimitri brought up the rear; all of them with fixed expressions of determination upon their faces. However, as Erin glanced briefly up at Dimitri, she again saw the wearing effects of the job taking their toll – the same greyish pallor to his skin; those awful bags under his eyes. She hated to put further stress on him but she could not help but try to put across her own worries to the man, in the vain hope that Dimitri might for once listen and take a sensible course of action. However, before Erin could even open her mouth to speak, Dimitri muttered quietly:

"Do you think Harry sounded a bit weird just then?"

Erin replayed Harry's frustrated tone again in her head, knowing that Dimitri was right, but also not wanting to admit it; because if she did agree – then it would give him fuel for his argument to hand himself over as guilty. Yet even she had noticed the slight break in Harry's voice when he had given the passionate speech about the job damaging him and Ruth. Erin just prayed that she had imagined it; that her former boss wasn't suddenly having an attack of conscience at potentially the most crucial and worst time possible.

"What do you mean?" she asked stiffly.

"You know what I mean," Dimitri said curtly, but in a low voice so that Calum could not overhear the conversation from his walking position in front of them. "I've worked for Harry for two years – if I've learnt anything from him, he's always taught me the importance of putting the lives of others and most specifically your country before yourself. And now suddenly, out of the blue, and completely unlike him, he's telling me not to do that."

"Maybe Di," Erin growled from beside him, having no intention of covering up her feelings about him ruining his life. "that's because what you've just described is Martyrdom."

Dimitri paused for a moment and they continued to walk a little way in silence. They were fast approaching the exit doors now and they both knew that soon the conversation would have to end.

"Look… Erin…" Dimitri said, now in a softer tone, which conveyed to her just how much she meant to him. "I know you don't agree with this idea-"

"-Too right I don't."

"- but," Dimitri continued, ignoring her heated interruption. "I honestly can't see another way at the moment."

Erin sighed, grudgingly letting the argument go for now, because they had reached the reception, and ears could be listening. "Look," she muttered. "Just go to your meeting with Towers and then get back to the Grid pronto – if this 'change of plans' gives us a new advantage then we can discuss it then."

"The Grid?" Dimitri questioned, looking doubtful, and the three of them came to a stop. Calum had conveniently wandered a somewhat further distance away from the pair, accepting that on this occasion, they needed their privacy. "Like I said before, I don't think that's a good idea – Bilberry is as bent as the rest of them."

"Then we regroup elsewhere after you return." Erin replied calmly, as if her words were obvious; restoring herself to cool, no-nonsense Section Chief mode.

She was about to turn and head towards the automatic doors, which frequently and most annoyingly kept sliding open and closed at the slightest movement from in or outside, however Dimitri gently but firmly grabbed her arm. Erin turned round, a little surprised at Dimitri's sudden action, and was more that a little taken aback when he planted his lips on hers. For a split second, she tried to force herself not to be moved by his sudden expression of love, but even she could not hold out for long, and soon she just revelled in the feeling of him being so close. Calum, who had been hovering awkwardly near them, turned to find them lip-locked and embraced in a way that told him in no uncertain terms that they were 'together'. Thinking how ironic it was that the pair were currently sharing such an intimate moment after a couple of hours ago, he and Erin were marching into the hospital, ready to kill Dimitri Levendis, Calum hastily averted his eyes, muttering under his breath.

"I really don't need to see that."

A few seconds later, it was Dimitri who surprisingly broke the kiss, and he pulled back, resting his forehead on hers, watching her heavy breathing reflect his. Erin, who now remembered where and when she was, tried to grasp onto whatever remaining dignity she still had left after that passionate encounter. She cleared her throat hastily and said somewhat dazedly:

"I suppose you think one kiss will make everything better between us."

"So there is an 'us'?" Dimitri whispered sharply, his face mere inches from hers, so that she could smell and feel each breath he exhaled.

"We'll see." Erin replied, also whispering enigmatically.

"I had to do that in case people were watching – I'm supposed to be faking my love for you."

Erin frowned suddenly, but continued in a firm undertone, "If you just did that for the benefit of any cameras or onlookers, then rest assured, I shall break your jaw and throw you to the authorities personally – guilty or not."

Dimitri could not help but release a small chuckle before drawing her face to his again, "It was worth a try as an excuse." He muttered wickedly, before Erin felt his expression turn serious once more. "I need you to do something for me."

Calum, who had been hovering awkwardly in the reception near them, frowned as he overheard these words, for he was still not entirely assured of Dimitri's apparent allegiance. To cover for his eavesdropping, he found a magazine on the waiting room table and focused his intent gaze on that instead, only to realise a couple of seconds later from the cover that it was a birthing magazine; he looked up hastily to find a wrinkled, rather stern-looking old woman staring at him incredibly suspiciously. Clearing his throat, Calum averted his gaze and removed his mobile from his jacket pocket instead, pretending to be in the midst of texting.

Meanwhile, Erin frowned again and replied dubiously, "What?"

"I need you to ring me in say… three quarters of an hour."

"What? Why?" Erin asked, deeper suspicion flitting across her features. "You'll be in the middle of your meeting with Towers. If he's changed the plan then you're our route to vital intelligence which could stop this whole affair."

"I know – I'll just have to try and coax it out of him a quickly as I can. But one thing Harry said is right – I can't incriminate myself anymore in this thing than possible, otherwise if we manage to send the Gavriks and this cell down, they could use me as an escape route; blame me, and they walk free. At last if we do it my way, I get the first word – I can say we were all involved."

"I thought we had agreed that you weren't going to resort to that until we speak to Harry again." Erin warned him in a low voice.

"I know, I'm just saying." Dimitri whispered quickly. "Just… ring me – say that you've come across some vital piece of information that needs all senior members of staff present."

"Di," Erin muttered incredulously. "Our main task at the moment is the find Harry and Ruth, who are supposed to have tried to abduct and assassinate the Gavriks' _and_ the Home Secretary. How can I say anything like that without incriminating them?"

"Well, you'll think of something." Dimitri insisted, reaching down to kiss her tenderly again. "You're smart like that."

"And you're trying to bloody charm me." Erin argued, but she smiled into the kiss nonetheless.

After another minute or so, Dimitri relented that he had to get a move on, and so he reluctantly broke away from Erin, smiling. This was much to Calum's relief, because he could still feel the strict, wrinkled old woman's suspicious eyes on him, and he was extremely anxious to leave.

"I'd better go." Dimitri sighed, squeezing Erin's hand before turning towards the automatic doors.

"Di – you were sent here in an ambulance." Erin reasoned logically. "You can't just hop in your car and drive there."

"What?" Dimitri asked confusedly, before realising the truth in her words and was momentarily wrong-footed. "Oh… oh yeah."

"Don't worry." Erin smiled, slipping her smaller hand into his and leading him through the exit doors, closely followed by Calum who all but hurried after them. "That's why we were officially here in the first place. I told Bilberry we'd pick you up and take you back to the grid. Whitehall's not too far off our route."

* * *

><p>Dimitri gritted his teeth, and forced that same morose, determined expression he had been maintaining for the past few months whilst undercover, back onto his otherwise anxious face. He remembered what Calum had snarled at him – that he could earn a place at RADA for his acting skills, and Dimitri had to rather agree with him. Forget Konstantin Stanislavski and his extravagant acting methods; all Dimitri could do was pretend he was embodying yet another legend. It was a bit closer to home that his legend just so happened to have his same name, age, features and background but hey… that was the challenge of it. And that's precisely what he forced himself to think of this mess now… a challenge. It was the only way he could shock his brain into gear when everything that was good to him was crumbling around him like poorly plastered ceilings.<p>

So forcing Dimitri Levendis the good, loyal, ex-SBS agent from his thoughts, he clenched his fists and continued walking down the corridors of Whitehall as Dimitri Levendis, bent MI5 agent. Only now did he begin to worry that maybe Towers had called him here because he had been rumbled; that this random 'change of plan' was actually a ploy to attract him. After all, especially to Ilya Gavrik, who had been Harry's more terrifying opposite in Russia for many years, they would know that to attract a mole, one would have to tempt him with slivers of information. He dared not glance up for he knew that even now, he was passing more cameras than he could even imagine, and that unfavourable sources could be watching his every move; he was very much aware that Gavrik's men would spot nervousness a mile off. And nervousness meant guilt; guilt meant he had something to hide; something to hide left only one option – mole. So logically, Dimitri surmised, there was no turning back now, because if he did, then he obviously had something to hide. Thus, he braced himself for any sudden movements, and kept his eyes peeled for dubious facial expressions. If he didn't, and if he had indeed been found out, then should Ilya Gavrik be with his pal Towers, then Dimitri would be dead before he hit the ground.

Finally, his moderate paces reached the end of the corridor, and he came face to face with Towers' door. Dimitri shoved all these agonising worries from his mind and prepared himself to focus on the situation at hand, before knocking, turning the doorknob and entering. The first thing he saw as he stepped into the lavishly furnished room was Ilya Gavrik, minus Elena, sitting contentedly in an armchair behind the Home Secretary's desk, apparently in deep conversation with Towers himself. Dimitri wanted to retch that second, but the stubborn, professional MI5 officer within him enforced his poker face. Contrary to his worries however, Towers and Ilya turned and smiled genuinely at him, looking quite relaxed in their tête-à-tête.

"Ah!" Towers beamed as Dimitri revealed himself from behind the door and closed it carefully behind him. "Dimitri m'boy! Come, come in! How's the arm?" he asked, jabbing a podgy finger in the direction of his wounded arm, which was now wrapped comfortably in a sling. To Dimitri however, it was a hindrance – one less arm in which to defend himself should there be an unwelcome attack. Towers however looked most happy with himself, and he rose to meet Dimitri, beckoning the young man over to his side, and shaking his other hand warmly.

"Just a flesh wound really sir," Dimitri said steadfastly, before driving his voice into a hard, unforgiving tone. "It would have made it more even if I had shot Harry Pearce back though."

"Indeed." Towers replied, still grinning warmly at him.

Dimitri watched both Towers' and Ilya Gavrik's expressions carefully, but neither really seemed to falter at his comment. He gradually became more confident that he hadn't been caught out just yet, but didn't allow himself to become too smug. He could sense a slight bitterness in Ilya Gavrik; he clearly didn't rate him too highly for losing their main prize: Harry and Ruth.

So he turned his attention to Gavrik and said in as genuine a voice as he could muster: "I'm sorry for my incompetence back there sir. I know… I know it was an important moment for you." With that, for added emphasis, Dimitri extended his hand towards the older man.

Ilya, who had still been sitting unmoving in his chair, a glass of scotch cradled in his wrinkly hands, contemplated the younger man for a few seconds, as if sizing him up, before his eyes landed on the hand in front of him. Dimitri wondered if this was the moment where he was shot for being a traitor to the 'alliance', but suddenly, and completely unexpectedly, the older man stood, and grasped his hand in a firm shake.

"That is alright Mr Levendis." He said in that slow, thick, purring Russian accent, that Dimitri guessed could have charmed any woman when Gavrik was younger. "We get another chance to redeem ourselves now. And you have proved useful to us in the past. I know your mistake was unintentional."

"Thank you sir," Dimitri smiled stiffly, breathing a sigh of false relief.

"A drink Dimitri?" Towers interjected cordially. "Scotch? Or just tea?"

Dimitri thought it best not to drink or eat anything that was offered to him – just in case. "You're very kind sir, but nothing for me just now. They filled me up with tea at the hospital, and I'm allowed no alcohol for the next 24 hours with the medication they gave me." He lied smoothly.

Ilya chuckled lightly, "A studious young man, who likes to keep his head clear for more important business." He indicated his own glass of scotch. "I envy you."

Towers chuckled along with him, and Dimitri went along with the action too, ensuring that he keep up pretences. "Oh I don't know sir," Dimitri forced himself to smile nastily. "I think I'll celebrate quite happily with you when that plane's gone down, that doe-eyed Erin Watts has been removed and I'm head of section."

Towers chuckled and poured himself another generous measure of scotch, before raising his glass the pair of them, "Here, here."

"You surprise me Mr Levendis – how you can turn on your colleagues so quickly-" Gavrik pondered.

Dimitri thought his heart may have stopped at the loaded comment, thinking that it was all over again, although he maintained his smile unfalteringly. He tried to shock his brain into gear; to think of something to say, anything in his defence but his mind went blank. Luckily, Gavrik continued his statement almost straight away after the pause, and Dimitri was relieved to see that he was still smiling genuinely.

"You're my kind of man I think, no? Sneaky, and your loyalties lie with the people who can get you the best deal." Gavrik chuckled lightly, before throwing the entire contents of the glass down his throat, and setting its empty form on the desk in front of him. "And now… to business."

"Yes." Towers agreed, still beaming, his face cherry red like a chubby toddler who was about too receive a big bagful of sugary sweets. He offered Dimitri a seat next to Ilya, and the three of them sat down.

"Now," Ilya said sharply, in a no-nonsense voice that meant entirely business. "With Harry Pearce and Ruth Evershed escaping in such a manner, I have no doubt that together they are going to try and put stop to all our months of planning; they'll stop the aircraft and then claim we're behind it."

"But," Towers continued, and Dimitri began to realise that they were both talking to him; this plan, whatever it was, had already, or would soon be put into action. Gavrik and Towers were just letting him into the deal. "they don't have a leg to stand on position-wise anyway. Harry's wanted for a whole list of crimes – not least for trying to kill Ilya, Elena and I, as well as the murders of Coaver, Delloy, Dubrovsky and Willard, and Ruth just as much for aiding and abetting him."

"But we have underestimated Harry Pearce and his miserable little bitch before. I wouldn't put it past them to try and stop our careful little plan." Ilya continued firmly, clasping his hands together so tightly that his knuckles cracked audibly. "So we shall cover our tracks well. They believe the plane to be setting off in around thirty three hours, and they'll believe they have that time." Dimitri nodded in agreement, his heart beating rapidly as he began to realise what Ilya's statement was leading to. It couldn't be… oh please, he thought, it couldn't be. "But what if they don't?"

"Don't what sir?" Dimitri asked, feigning ignorance to cover for his internal panic.

"They no longer have thirty three hours." Ilya said, smiling a little smugly. "There is no way they could stop it in the time they have. Ms Evershed was in, from what I could see, a bit of a sorry state – there is no way Harry will put this before her – 'great' though he is." Dimitri heard Gavrik's voice layered thickly with sarcasm as he uttered the word 'great', and Dimitri retorted back in his mind 'He's a billion times greater than you any day.'

Dimitri forced a smile onto his face, "I like this very much. What do you mean 'they no longer have thirty three hours?" At this point, Dimitri was wishing fervently that he had some form of wire or recording device on him; that way he would nail these two bastards here and now, but unfortunately, bent as a crowbar Bilberry had conveniently banned clever little technologies such as these from leaving the grid without his say-so, and they were regularly checked. And more to the point, as he had entered Whitehall, he had been searched carefully – had he been carrying any such thing, the game would have been up for his cover. He supposed this new form of security had been issued after Towers and the Gavriks' had almost been 'abducted'.

At Dimitri's enthusiastic encouragement, Ilya's vanity furthered and he smiled in even more smugly, "I have, with the Home Secretary's approval, brought the flight forward. Thankfully, one factor which we did not let onto Harry Pearce is that the plane is filled with delegates and important figures that are to be present to discuss and be there for the signing of the Treaty. Thus, the signing has been brought forward to tomorrow morning, or so they will think – before the bomb goes off. Then I put on my best shocked face and refuse to sign the Treaty."

"Ilya's plan is perfect." Towers simpered heartily, clapping his hands together excitedly. "The bomb shall be newly timed to go off at midnight instead of twelve in the afternoon, over The London City Airport, just as the late night flights are coming in. The wreckage should also take place over civilians' homes as they are sleeping. In a way," Towers beamed. "I think it is all the more humane."

Dimitri listened, trying to keep the manic smile on his face, whilst all the while wanting to retch in disgust at the two bastards before him. He looked at Towers – a man whom he had respected before all of this – a man who stood for the people, to protect them – and now he was talking about murdering them in their beds, the raging psychopath! He then stared at Ilya and knew without a shadow of a doubt that he had always been this cold and despicable. It was in his nature, probably ever since the cold war – to be ruthless and unmerciful, especially on the orders of his employers. Except the cold war was over now, and they were supposed to be living in relative peace. He was filled with horror internally – he had a mere few hours to stop this and so far he had only one idea. Dimitri had been prepared to give himself up for his country, but he hadn't thought it would be this soon. He suddenly became aware that both Towers and Ilya Gavrik were staring at him expectantly, and he forced his smile wider; his cheeks ached.

"You're right sir," Dimitri nodded at Towers, and then turned to Gavrik. "The plan is indeed perfect. What do you need me to do?"

He was praying any moment for Erin's interjecting phone call; if his timing was correct then she should be ringing imminently.

Ilya's own smile widened and he clapped Dimitri on the shoulder, "I knew we could rely on you Mr Levendis. Now, I have a suspicion that wherever they are Pearce and his precious Ms Evershed are going to contact Ms Watts or Mr Reed for help – perhaps to inform them about all they witnessed. Under no circumstances are you to let them do that – you are to block the call, but trace it. Then you tell me their whereabouts. It'll be my pleasure to see them again." He smiled nastily, and Dimitri continued to feel incredibly sick. "And, you are to, at whatever cost, keep them from being suspicious over the bringing forward of the Treaty and the arrival of the plane tonight. Trusty Bilberry shall do his bit, but I know your little Ms Watts will probably go against the status quo."

"Yes sir." Dimitri replied spontaneously, trying to make his expression blank and unemotional.

"Why not woo her again Dimitri eh?" Towers grinned, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "You've done a good job of that so far. Try and keep her out of the way – maybe a small secluded cupboard suitable for a bit of… hanky-panky." His eyebrows waggled, if possible, even more suggestively, so that the podgy man would have looked quite comical had it not been for the seriousness of the situation.

But again, he forced a thin smile, "Yes sir."

As if on cue, and not before time, his phone sounded, echoing briefly around the wooden panelled room before Dimitri hurriedly pulled it out of his jacket pocket and answered, "Yes?"

"_Di, I need you back at the grid." _

Had he not been maintaining his hard-man image, Dimitri thought he might have sighed with relief. Finally, his escape route from these despicable excuses for human beings. He deliberately, but 'accidentally' hit the loudspeaker setting, but pretended not to notice.

"What do you mean?" he asked, frowning for the benefit of his audience.

"_Something doesn't seem right… I know I've only worked with Harry and Ruth for a few months but… look, are you sure they tried to kidnap the Gavriks' and–?"_

"I'll be there in about twenty minutes okay?"

"_But Di-"_

"Just wait for me." Dimitri muttered sternly, before disconnecting the call, knowing that Erin would understand that he had been role-playing, just as she had. He shoved his phone back into his pocket and gave a sigh of false annoyance, "I've got to go – that was Erin – she thinks-"

"She is suspicious." Ilya finished for him, smiling a little smugly. "As I thought she would be. Go and deal with it – you know what you have to do. The game begins…"

Dimitri nodded, "Yes sir."

With that, and wondering how Gavrik could possibly think of all of this as a game, he stood and made his way to the door. He had his hand on the doorknob and was just about to exit when Towers called after him:

"Good luck m'boy. If all goes according to plan, after tonight… we'll all have our rightful reward!"

"Yes sir," Dimitri agreed, whilst in his head furiously disagreeing. Yet he made sure to look both of them in the eyes as he said, "Good luck to you too."

He twisted the doorknob, jolted open the heavy door with ease, and thankfully exited the room. All the way along the musty corridors and out of Whitehall he managed to maintain the blank self-confident expression, just as he had been trained to do with any legend. It was only when he had hailed a taxi, was sitting in the back recalling the entire conversation, and checking his watch, that he allowed himself to really panic. It was half past seven – it was a four hour flight, and the plane was due to explode at midnight. What on earth was he going to do?

**Yes, what on earth _is_ he going to do? The only way to find out is to read the next chapter ;) As I said, I hope people enjoyed this anyway, even with no HR - but there shall be plenty of HR goodness in the next chapter - promise. And it should be soon (hoepfully)! Please review and let me know what you think :) **


	48. Chapter 48

**As promised, a chapter within the week (or rather a week later), with lots of HR fluff. It's short by my standards, but I did promise a chapter within a week and this is all that was written. I shall try and update again within this week, but it is getting harder at the moment because I am moving soon. Thank you for the awesome reviews, and I'm sorry if the last chapter disappointed a few of you with no HR - hopefully you'll like his one better. Please review xxx**

"Chef Harry's special of the day!" Harry grinned, as he carefully transferred one of the Pyrex bowls he was holding from his hand, to the coffee table, in front of an expectant Ruth. "Chicken Soup!"

His automatic instinct was to place the bowl gently in her lap, as he would normally do with his own, but fortunately he had learnt that due to the size of her stomach recently, this was no longer possible, and so he ate with her at the coffee table. She smiled at his weak humour and thoughtfulness, and waited patiently for him to hand her a table spoon and sit cosily beside her. Ruth had noticed that over the months, whilst they ate, and for some reason they usually did seem to end up eating meals next to each other on the sofa, an admittedly appalling habit, she found herself instinctively leaning in towards him; as if he gave off some sort of comforting presence that immediately made her feel safe, just being near him. She was an analyst, and even she could not explain mentally or verbally this feeling, because indeed, she had never experienced it before. Harry of course had noticed, but he did not mention it once, for fear of Ruth retreating into herself again, just as she did in the immediate aftermath of the attack. Instead, he merely smiled joyfully as she performed the same action now as they settled together on the sofa to eat.

"It's not exactly Jamie Oliver's recommended dish of the year," Harry bantered lightly as he tasted it. After having no food in his system for about forty-eight hours, he decided internally that it was simply the most delicious delicacy he had ever experienced, and Ruth agreed heartily with him, gulping it down hungrily. "But it'll do."

"It's wonderful." She praised gently, meeting his eyes to convey her thanks, before returning to her meal. She paused suddenly, very much aware that the baby was turning slightly inside. Ruth had experienced these sort of movements for over three months now, but she did not think he would ever get used to them, or the actual notion that there was another living human being living inside her body. Still, she was sure that the movements had never come so strongly before, and she could not help but gasp at the sensation, bringing one hand automatically to her stomach.

Harry was automatically on alert, his eyes widening as he abandoned his soup and turned his full attention to Ruth, "Are you okay?" he asked concernedly.

Ruth frowned in concentration, gasping once more before the baby's movements came to a stop. Satisfied that things were alright for the time being, she smiled hesitantly at a sweetly, very anxious

Harry. "Yes," she said softly, rubbing her stomach once more for good measure before picking up the steel spoon again. "I think so. The baby was moving that's all. I don't think I'll ever get used to the way it feels."

Harry looked a little doubtful, his head and heart well-tuned to hearing one of Ruth's brush-offs, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," She replied, smiling a little more confidently as she returned to her slowly cooling chicken soup. "The movements… they just seemed to feel a little stronger this time."

Harry looked thoughtfully down at his soup bowl for an instant before saying reassuringly, in a bland attempt at humour, "It's probably just enjoying the soup!"

Ruth could not help but laugh slightly, and Harry, realising what he had just said, chuckled along with her, adoring the sparkle in her gorgeous blue eyes when she laughed. He pressed a brief, gentle kiss to her forehead; she blushed, as she always did, but could not help but smile at the bizarre contentedness she felt sitting here with him, when the country around them was going down the drain. This thought then made her feel rather selfish, and so she sobered slowly, and resumed the eating of her meal.

"I'm serious." Harry shrugged. "With you not eating in what amounts to a couple of days, your stomach, and the baby, are probably just getting to used to reacquainting itself with food."

"I hope that's what it is." She murmured quietly, her fears once more rising to the surface of her mind. The smile was gone; replaced by that timid, anxious expression that Harry hated to see, especially after seeing her so happy.

"It will be." He assured her gently, finishing his soup with a last scrape of the bowl, before placing it on the table and easing one arm comfortingly around Ruth's shoulders. "You'd be in pain if there was anything wrong."

"I'm…" Ruth whispered so quietly that Harry had to strain his ears to hear her. It did not help that she had ducked her head in that shy fashion she used to adorably undertake, so that her voice was directed at her expanded stomach. "I'm just… scared that the baby… well… that it might come early… and I mean… early as in… before this whole mess is over."

"Sweetheart," Harry murmured so softly that she felt compelled to stare up into his magnificent hazel orbs. "You're not due for another month… maybe a bit less."

"Baby's can come early." Ruth whispered worriedly, plucking absent-mindedly at the now fraying extra large shirt she was still wearing, having not yet changed back into her now washed clothes. Personally, Harry thought she looked incredibly beautiful, and extremely sexy dressed in the outfit, but as with their newly-found physical closeness, he would not even consider mentioning it in case she backtracked and lost her trust in him. "The handbook says it's possible."

"Of course it is." Harry agreed tenderly, allowing her to finish up the last of her soup, before drawing both arms around her, encircling her in a gentle, comforting embrace. "But it's not extremely common, and many babies who do come prematurely, only come about two weeks before. I mean, my daughter Catherine for example…" Ruth noticed easily the sadness in Harry's eyes as he uttered his estranged daughter's name, and cursed inwardly that she could do nothing really useful to ease his relationship with his daughter, so instead she wrapped her arms around him as well. "She came in the evening on the day of her estimated birth, whilst Graham, my son – he arrived eight days early."

Ruth desperately wanted to ask more about his two children, because even in the months that they had lived quite peacefully together in his house, he had always shied away from any conversation that remotely leaned towards his children and failed marriage. He mentioned them on occasion, almost absent-mindedly but not as often as a father in contact with his children might, which told her that although he still sadly prayed for a close relationship with them, it looked rather unlikely. And on each occasion he did let slip the odd titbit of a memory or information about them, Harry's eyes glazed over slightly, so that he looked most ashamed, almost sorry for himself – an expression that very rarely graced his features. Although he never mentioned it, Ruth could tell that sometimes Harry worried inwardly that he was not going to fulfil his duties as a father towards their child; that he was going to let them down just as he had done earlier in his life with Catherine and Graham, but she was quietly confident, and held great faith that he was going to be just fine. If he treated the baby with the same infinitely gentle kindness as he had shown her, especially over the past few months, then he or she were very lucky indeed.

Harry meanwhile had registered Ruth's arms snaking around him and had subsequently smiled automatically, yet he could see the misty look in her eyes, as if she had drifted off somewhere entirely different. So not wanting to disturb her, he waited patiently for her thoughts to return to their current conversation, enjoying their closeness, before saying in conclusion:

"The baby will come when it comes Ruth, and we'll deal with it… whenever it happens."

"Even if we're about to be exiled to some unknown country?"

"Even then." Harry promised her softly, kissing her temple for emphasis. "Unlikely as it is."

"What?" Ruth asked confusedly. "What's unlikely? The baby being born prematurely or you and I being forced into exile?"

Harry smiled a little wryly, "Both I hope."

She smiled back in agreement and they sat, Ruth somehow suddenly snuggled up against Harry's chest; Harry holding her closely, occasionally drifting a hand through her mousy hair, each appreciating the contented silence whilst they could. This silence however was disturbed by a familiarly loud ringing from the mobile in front of them on the coffee table, still untouched since Harry dropped it back there. The pair stared at it for a second, wishing selfishly, despite the situation outside, that they could have had that moment together for a little longer. And now it was back to the horrifically real world of bombs, corruption and despicable politics.

"That'll be Dimitri." Ruth said quietly, slowly disengaging herself from Harry's embrace. Harry felt slightly bereft without her presence, but he knew he could not ignore the call, especially with people's lives at risk. So he sighed and nodded, reaching forward and pressing the answer button, switching the phone to loudspeaker mode soon afterwards.

"Harry."

As they had anticipated, it was Dimitri on the other end of the line, yet he sounded quite uncharacteristically breathless, almost panicky; most unlike himself.

"Dimitri, you don't sound right." Harry said concernedly, automatically on alert. "Are you okay? Did something happen in the meeting with Towers? What's going on?"

He and Ruth listened attentively, Ruth biting her lip anxiously as they waited on tenterhooks for more information, especially over Dimitri's wellbeing. The young man breathed a little heavily for a few seconds, and Ruth tried to analyse where exactly he was from the muffled sounds of traffic around him. If he was walking through the streets of London, then that would certainly explain his slightly off breathing.

"Yeah," Dimitri replied, though he sounded breathless and worried. "I'm alright. But if we don't do something quickly, in a few short hours, twelve very important people aren't going to be so good, and nor are hundreds of Londoners."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked quickly, his heart beating vey fast indeed, and Ruth's expression of anxiety doubled.

"Ilya's changed the plan." Dimitri said, breathing quickly as he seemed to continue hurrying through the streets of London. After he lost you and Ruth he thought that you were going to foil his plans, and well… he was right. But now, to try and beat you to it, he's brought forward the supposed signing of the treaty to tomorrow morning. The plane itself should be setting off in about twenty minutes and it's now due to arrive at midnight – the new time at which the bomb is set to blow."

"Oh God…" Ruth moaned, running a hand over her stressed face, whilst Harry caught her other hand and squeezed it tightly.

"Ruth?" Dimitri's voice asked, sounding surprised – he had probably still been expecting her to be out of it for a while yet. Yet his tone automatically softened as he added, "It's good to hear your voice. I'd ask how you were but we've not got much time."

"No, I understand." She said softly, nodding even though she knew the young man couldn't see her.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, frowning in concentration. "You said he brought forward the signing of the treaty? What's that got to do with the plane?"

"It's a crucial fact which I didn't know, and one that he handily neglected to tell you," Dimitri said quickly, apparently in a bid to explain everything as fast as possible, which was quite understandable. "The passengers on that plane are all diplomats and important political figures involved in the signing and discussing of the treaty. There will be Americans, Russians and English people on that plane. There's no way we can stop it before it sets off – I was on my way back to the Grid to tell Erin Calum but now I'm just not sure what to do. I'm here pacing up and down the Thames, trying to decide whether to do the thing that's going to end my freedom for good."

"Oh for God's sake Dimitri," Harry almost cried, gripping Ruth's hand tightly in his for a source of comfort. "Not that again. There's another way-"

"In the time we've got?" Dimitri asked sceptically despite his blatant state of panic. "I think not. We've got four hours and eighteen minutes until the country is blown into havoc."

"Yes Dimitri," Harry said as patiently as he could. "You turning yourself in as one of them is going to help send them down, but it probably isn't going to help stop the plane."

"Well I'd love to hear any other ideas you've got-"

"I thought Ilya said there would be civilians on that plane as well?"

"It's all part of the change of plan. At this time, why would civilians catch a late flight? It's a smaller, more official plane due to land over London City Airport at midnight. There's nothing we can-"

Ruth, who had been sitting quietly but thoughtfully as she listened to the two men argue, suddenly cut Dimitri off, saying as loudly and firmly as she possibly could:

"Dimitri, can you get us a list of who is on that plane?"

Harry turned to stare at her in both amazement and bewilderment; her ability to think clearly in such a horrific situation and the fact that her request probably wasn't going to help very much. Dimitri also sounded rather doubtful:

"I don't know if that'll help…"

"Anything is worth a try at this rate." She said quietly. "Trust me Dimitri, I know what it's like to be punished for something you didn't do, and it doesn't always result in the good you intend. Please just… humour me. Can you get a list of who is on that plane?"

She heard Dimitri sigh reluctantly but comply later with, "Yes, probably. I'll get Calum to do some hacking on the quiet for me from Towers' computer. But I still don't understand how it'll-"

"It's worthwhile isn't it to know who is on the plane, to see if we can catch out who that suicide bomber is? On a plane of diplomats and important political figures, this thing must go pretty high up, so we need that list so that we can dig up information on them."

Harry was still staring at her in amazement and now adoration, as if she was the greatest genius the world had ever produced. He also could not help but smile slightly at the fact that she looked and sounded so much like her old self, they could almost have been discussing the daily terror threats on the grid. "Of course," he muttered catching onto her idea quickly; they always had been able to share the same wave length. "We find the suicide bomber, and then hopefully there may be someone relatively trustworthy on that plane who, with the right instructions, could potentially stop the bomb."

"We have to try it," Ruth tried to justify with him, looking at him pleadingly for support. Even now, when she was back in her element, she was a little unsure or herself. Harry ensured he was quick to squeeze her hand and nod in agreement.

"It'll mean putting our country in the hands of a politician – something which I've always condemned." He added quietly, weighing up the argument carefully. "But it doesn't look like there's much of a choice."

"Okay," Dimitri's voice agreed quietly, hiss breathing speeding up again, and they heard heavy footsteps from the other end of the phone which they translated as him running. "I'm on my way to the grid now. Who knows how I'm going to get this information without alerting Bilberry."

"You'll just have to improvise Dimitri." Harry told him, his authoritative Section Head demeanour coming to the forefront.

"Right – I think I've got an idea." The young man replied. "I can probably wangle getting the list, but not much more than that. If I ask Calum to run checks on all these people, then Bilberry will know about it. Security's unbelievably tight on the grid since you two supposedly kidnapped the Gavriks' and Towers."

"Don't worry about that – that'll be our task." Ruth said grimly, that familiar spark lighting up her eyes as it always did on the grid when she knew there was a challenge ahead. Harry was convinced she had never looked more beautiful than in that moment. "I'm assuming that in an MI5 safe house, there is liable to be some sort of laptop or device that can connect _undetected_, for field purposes, to the MI5 mainframe and databases?"

Harry, knowing she was right, nodded immediately, having to focus on the conversation in hand, instead of staring in aweing adoration at the woman he loved. "Of course, there should be – even if this place hasn't been used for years. It's field regulations – an agent must always have some form of contact with MI5, without it being traceable."

"Harry's right." Dimitri confirmed, his breathing still coming in gasps as he jogged speedily all the way to Thames House. "You could use the list to find information on these people, and Bilberry would never know about it."

Harry reluctantly released Ruth's hand and hauled himself up from the sofa, "I'll go and find it." With that, he moved quickly around the room, searching the various items of cheap, slowly moulding furniture, before conceding it was not there. He inclined his head towards the doorway to indicate that he was going to check elsewhere, and Ruth nodded in understanding, smiling briefly before returning to speak to Dimitri.

"You are safe for the moment aren't you Dimitri?" she asked softly, aware of how dangerous the situation was for him. One slip up, and not only his career, but his life could be over. "No one's onto you?"

Dimitri's voice grew gentler, touched that Ruth cared for him in such a way, especially considering the outlook for her and Harry wasn't looking at all good at the moment. "I think I'm alright for now. But if, touch wood, we do stop this plane, it's hardly going to take a genius for Ilya and Towers to work out who the mole in their little plan is. I may be joining you in that safe house pretty soon." He joked feebly, and his breathing slowed suddenly, telling Ruth he had decelerated into a walk. "I'm nearly there now. I have to go."

"Call us soon." Ruth told him quietly, almost pleadingly, and then added, "Make sure you, Erin and Calum keep safe."

A slight chuckle erupted from Dimitri's end of the phone and he said quietly, but gently in return, "I've said it before – you're too soft Evershed." A slight pause followed the statement, indicating that he was only teasing her, but was genuinely moved by her concern. "I'll call back soon… I hope."

There was a crackling and then an everlasting beep which told Ruth he had disconnected the call, and sighing, she replaced the phone back onto the coffee table. Minutes later, Harry reappeared carrying a sufficiently mouldy and extremely dusty laptop case. As he placed it carefully on the coffee table next to the phone, he sighed:

"Dimitri's gone then?"

"Yes," Ruth nodded, unable to hide the anxiety in her eyes and voice. "But not for long he hopes. He's going to try and get that list to us, whilst Bilberry is watching him like a hawk. He's a brave man."

"You know," Harry said, carefully avoiding her eyes as he bent down to zip open the laptop case. "I'm very proud of you."

Immediately and as he suspected, Harry saw Ruth blush and dip her head at the compliment, "What?" she asked timidly, apparently having no idea what he was talking about.

"What you did just now," He continued conversationally, the zip reaching the end of the line, and he opened the fragile case slowly, as if it was a precious artefact that could break into thousands of pieces, the moment one touched it. "And what you're about to do. Even now after… everything, you're still my same brilliant analyst."

"_Your_ analyst Harry?" she asked, but he could tell she was being playful, despite her worry. "Since when was I _yours_?"

"Well," He bantered back, reaching over to kiss the tip of her nose, to which she laughed lightly, before he returned to the task at hand. "I'm hoping that you're mine and that you're not planning on running off into the sunset with a Puerto Rican pool boy."

"With me in the state that I am, I don't think I'll be running off anywhere," Ruth smiled softly before saying a little shyly, with genuine love in her eyes. "And I don't think… I don't think I could leave you… ever… not now… as long as you want me of course." She added, even now, her fears still raging.

"Then I'll want you forever." Harry grinned reassuringly at her, placing great emphasis on the 'forever', to which she blushed again. "Now – to work?"

"Yes." She agreed, that steely, determined sparkle alighting her eyes again, as she leaned forward as much as she could with her expanded stomach, booting the laptop to begin.

Harry just smiled in return and set his Section Head mode into action.

**An update soon? It shall be a much longer one next time I think (hope). But hopefully you liked this mix of fluff and plot. Please review and let me know what you think. :) xxx**


	49. Chapter 49

**Hi, it's me again - just to let you know that this story's still running. Not sure many of you are going to be happy about this but unfortunately it's another Erin, Dimitri and Calum chapter again, because they're the ones who need to sort out this mess at the moment, but I promise a good dose or Harry and Ruth next chapter. But still, I'd appreciate you reading this and giving feedback because I've spent quite a lot of time writing it anyway. Here's some serious stuff, plot, comedy and so on... I hope you enjoy it. Please review :)**

As Dimitri approached the pods, he could tell automatically that everything had changed. Instead of the safe haven of Section D – the cosy base for determined, yet ultimately good, loyal serving officers of the service, the department had become as bent as their country's Home Secretary, thanks to the ever slippery Blockhead Bilberry. Standing just outside the entrance were two large, burly-looking security guards whom Dimitri had never seen in his life, but he was prepared to bet this month's salary that they had been posted here to prevent any information from getting in or out of MI5 that any potential moles might be carrying.

Of course, it would be under pretention that it was for the good of the Home Secretary and the Gavriks' – that the main task was to apprehend Harry and Ruth, and any people aiding them. And that therefore, Dimitri realised grimly, made it extremely difficult to access the list from the Home Secretary's computer. It was at that moment that he wished the list of safe houses he had given Harry and Ruth were used more often, because that would have meant the laptop Ruth was currently using, would have been more up-to-date, containing the programs essential to hack into a complicated system like Whitehall's. This wasn't to say that he doubted Ruth's ability – not at all – she was the best hacker he had ever met, with the exception of Tariq (and he would gladly have informed Calum of this in order to gain the usual indignant reaction), however it was the technology she had available that would serve to be the problem. Thus, it was up to him, Calum and Erin to get that list past these guards. From there, he knew he could trust Ruth to do her work from the limited MI5 databases on the laptop.

Gritting his teeth and forcing he small, fake smile, he allowed the two burly men to pat him down as you might do at an airport. They would actually be more useful searching the passengers thoroughly on that bloody plane, he thought angrily, because that suicide bomber must be carrying a pretty complicated piece of kit in order for it not to show in an ordinary airport scanner. He waited impatiently for them to finish conducting their search, including pockets, before they allowed him passage through the pods.

Dimitri headed straight across the grid towards Erin and Calum, aware of Bilberry's eyes tracing his movements. This would have to be very skilfully played. Erin too had noticed him; thankfully sensing that all was not fine, she played her victim of love role well, wrapping her arms around Dimitri so that they were embraced with their heads drawn closely together in order to negotiate a short conversation.

"What's wrong?" she breathed quickly, her voice muffled against his shoulder. "What's going on?"

"Later." He promised her shortly, whispering urgently into her ear. "Tell Calum to hack into the Home Secretary's computer and access me a list of the passengers and crew on the reserved flight to London Airport due at midnight tonight."

"What?!" Erin hissed in horror, but she was professional and faultless in every way, forcing a smile before kissing Dimitri chastely on the lips because Bilberry's keen eyes were still watching.

"Do it now." Dimitri said under his breath, still smiling as if he was on candid camera. "I'll go and distract blockhead. You have to get yourself and Calum out of the pods, with the information. Meet me on the roof – it should be safe from prying eyes there."

Erin smiled weakly once more before turning with her back to Bilberry's office, so that she was leaning back over Calum, the position she had been in before Dimitri turned up. Dimitri sighed and prepared himself for yet more falsifying of emotions; striding confidently towards Bilberry's office – an office which was, and always would be Harry's to him.

* * *

><p>"He wants a list of what?" Calum hissed furiously, although even his less than tactful self was mindful to keep his voice down low.<p>

"You heard." Erin whispered back grimly, her eyes focussing determinedly on the computer screen in front of them.

"But… but…" Calum stammered in horror, consulting the digital clock on his computer screen. "If he said the plane is due in at midnight, then that means it's already set off – there's no way we can stop that bomb now. Ilya Gavrik lied-"

"Yeah, or he got cold feet because Harry and Ruth escaped – I bet you anything he changed the flight time by bringing forward the supposed 'signing of the treaty', because he was afraid they would intervene."

"But – there's nothing we can do to stop it." Calum hissed again, panicking, which was a very rare occurrence for him.

"I think Di's got a plan." Erin whispered back, as calmly as she possibly could be in the current crisis.

"But-"

"So after boasting most of the year that you're the best hacker on the grid... the best hacker in MI5 even, you're telling me that you can't even get into the Home Secretary's system untraced to extract a measly piece of information?" Erin uttered innocently, knowing full well that this was the bait Calum would take; the only way she would ever get him focused.

As she anticipated, he frowned and looked suddenly affronted, "Now, I never said that." He murmured defensively.

"Oh," Erin said quickly, almost as if it was an afterthought – she thought, or rather hoped, that saying it quickly might give it a little less impact. "And we have to get that information and ourselves, somehow past those guards outside the pods."

"What?!" Calum turned round and hissed at her, outraged.

"Hacking?" Erin whispered back expectantly, staring at him sternly, in the same fashion she would when Rosie was refusing to finish her dinner.

Calum shot her a very dirty look, but she chose to overlook it for now because of the seriousness of the situation, and she watched him mutter a small "Fine" before whirling back to the computer screen, his hands flying like mad across the keyboard.

Erin concentrated on watching her colleague work, silently appraising his skills from behind, where he could not see her expression and boost his ego even more. She tried her best to make their appearance as normal as possible, just in case any unfriendly plants were watching them. Just because Dimitri was currently taking care of Bilberry, didn't mean that Towers hadn't installed more people onto the grid. That was the infuriating thing about politicians – nearly all of them were bent, and had enough power within their grasp to ensure everyone else was as well. So Erin leaned over Calum's chair occasionally murmuring in his ear and saying out loud to anybody nearby listening phrases such as 'can you analyse the CCTV footage of the place Harry and Ruth were last seen?' or 'I still don't believe they could be capable of doing this'.

"Don't forget," She warned Calum in a low voice. "This has to be completely untraceable – we don't want Bilberry or Towers or anybody else to know what we're doing."

"Erin," Calum whispered back impatiently, almost sounding offended, but not taking his eyes off the screen for one moment. "What do you take me for? Do you think I'm completely incompetent?"

"No," She replied firmly as she witnessed him easily soar over every barrier of the Whitehall mainframe, casually avoiding being traced, and practically prancing to the finishing goal – that document. "I actually think you're really bloody marvellous right now."

"Why thank you, I'll remind you of this moment later." He grinned cockily.

"You're now losing some of your marvel status." Erin replied coolly, and he quickly returned to the task at hand.

"Dear, dear," Calum muttered, sighing to emphasise how easy the task was. "I'm actually a little bit disappointed that Whitehall and the government have made this so easy. A ten year old could crack these firewalls."

"What ten year olds do you know who want to break off from swapping cards or playing football to hack into the Home Secretary's computer?" Erin demanded sceptically. "Just keep alert and aware – don't get to cocky. Cockiness can lead to a mistake and we can't afford any errors."

Calum sighed reluctantly, "Right."

Perhaps she had underestimated him however, because within minutes of that last comment, her younger colleague had successfully broken into the Home Secretary's computer and was sifting with ease through the relevant files. It could only be forty seconds later that he located the ever so important file, which he minimised briefly so that no one would catch onto what they were actually doing.

"Now it's the hard part." He muttered grimly, turning to look a little anxiously at Erin. "How the heck to we get this past the Sweeney out there?" He demanded, his eyes flickering briefly towards the pods.

Erin chewed her lip thoughtfully before realising no ideas were immediately flagging up, "I hadn't got as far as that."

"Well, I'm the technical man, and you're the ideas man… I mean… woman." Calum amended, very much aware of how strong, high rising, career driven females were proud of their sexuality. Or at least, he had worked with Erin long enough to catch on to this.

"Thanks Cal, really helpful." She muttered back sarcastically, narrowing her eyes in concentration. There had to be something they could do. Ironically enough, they had exercises like this in training, but she had been fast-tracked through the courses so fast that training seemed like a very long time ago. "If only we had some sort of diversion."

"Well _I_ could have told you that." Calum mumbled, apparently not understanding her need for him to be helpful or else silent at that moment. Erin shot him a withering look and at last he got the message; he began to think hard alongside her.

"Does this diversion need to be physical, or can it be mechanical?" he asked eventually, knowing that what he was about to suggest would be a long shot, but right now, it was all they had.

"Why?" Erin demanded eagerly. "What have you got?"

Calum sighed, rubbing his hands together a little nervously, with half a glance at the grid around him to check that no one was listening in. "I could send an untraceable computer virus through the Thames House network. It'd shut down not only access to the grid's databases but also many of the stations throughout the other sections."

"It sounds good enough to me – do it." Erin said decisively.

"Yes," Calum agreed, for once not cock-a-hoop about his own abilities. "But it could also mean some of the other sections are without power. We know that Section D is so filled with moles and rotten to the core by now that it wouldn't matter if the virus shut down some of these computers – if anything it'd slow down the search for Harry and Ruth."

"Well then that's good isn't it?" Erin asked quietly. Both of them paused for an instant as a couple of chatting junior personnel passed them, clutching enlarged wanted posters of Harry and Ruth. It only served to frustrate Erin even more and she tapped her foot impatiently when Calum carried on with his explanation.

"Yes, but the other sections are trying to actually do some good – you know… saving the nation and all that. It could mean disastrous consequences."

"Then we make sure that you can fix this virus in as short a time as possible." Erin replied quickly, clapping him on the back assuredly. "I am assuming that is part of your plan anyway?" she checked, frowning.

Calum nodded in confirmation, "The mainframe for all the computers in this Section is outside the pods – should the virus get around Section D's network, then by the rules, lockdown should commence – I don't exactly know how that helps, but apparently it does. But in this case, it works to our advantage. Basically, I'd have to go and sort the problem out – I'd get the two muscle brothers out there to help me move the pods while they're off automatic, explain the problem, and hopefully, they won't conduct an as thorough search as usual."

"It's very risky." Erin agreed after a beat.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you." Calum sighed, picking up his pen and clicking it up and down with his thumb, just as he always did when he was agitated.

"What are you going to do with the document?" Erin asked dubiously, beginning to realise just how tricky this plan was going to be to initiate. It was practically a whole operation, actually being conducted on the grid. "How small and undetectable could you get it?"

Her younger colleague frowned for an instant whilst in deep thought. "Well… I could fit the information onto a microscopic storage device and hide it… I don't know in my shoe… something like that…" Calum suddenly stopped mid-sentence, halting the nervous clicking of his pen by placing his hand flat on the desk, all the while staring straight at Erin as if she had just become the world's most rare and beautiful creation.

"What?" Erin asked, a little disturbed by Calum's odd behaviour. "Do I have something on my face?"

Discreetly checking that they were not being watched – through the office blinds, Dimitri was still apparently engaging Bilberry in distracting conversation – Calum beckoned Erin just a little closer and muttered quietly, but casually:

"Do you remember the Salenko job back in 2008?"

Erin frowned at the sudden conversation shift, wondering why Calum was now taking this moment to discuss the good old days of Section E; it was surely the wrong time for heart to hearts. "Yeah, it was my first major operation."

"Right," Calum murmured, rolling his eyes at how slow his supposed superior was at catching onto what he was suggesting. "And do you remember that when you went undercover as Salenko's mistress, you had to transfer all that data from his computer and get it to us, without it showing up when you went through security?"

Finally it seemed to dawn on Erin what her colleague was suggesting and she clapped her hand to her mouth subconsciously, "Of course," she said in a hushed voice, a small smile playing on her lips. "The tooth – I'd completely forgotten I had that done. I haven't had any cause to use that trick since the Salenko op'. Do you think hiding a microdot in there would still work?"

Calum grinned knowingly, feeling slightly more assured of his abilities now, and he whirled back around to face his computer, inconspicuously drawing out a tiny microdot device from his desk drawer. "It was Malcolm Wynn-Jones' invention – the man was a genius. He's already saved Harry and Ruth's lives within the last few days, without even knowing about it, with that phone Dimitri gave them. I'd trust him with my life."

Erin nodded, the explanation enough for her, and tried her best to conceal her smile as Calum worked his magic with the microdot. "Right," she said mock-reproachfully. "And you just happened to have one of those lying around in your desk drawer?"

"I'm in charge of all technology." Calum shrugged, though he was grinning too. "Why shouldn't I? And besides, I think we should be thankful that I 'just happened to have it lying around in my desk drawer'."

"The virus will be untraceable won't it?" Erin clarified with her younger colleague. As with any off-site operation, she wanted to get every detail planned and sorted.

"Yes Erin dear," Calum smirked, the cockiness returning to his voice as he spoke to her, almost as if she was a five year old. "That would be why I called it an untraceable virus."

Erin knew that she should have been annoyed at Calum's patronising tone, yet the renewed swagger in his attitude actually comforted her slightly for what they were about to attempt. So she just snapped, "Just shut up and do your stuff."

* * *

><p>Dimitri knocked once on what he still considered to be Harry's office door, and popped his head into the room. "Sir?" he said in his best 'good boy' tone. He had been aware of Bilberry's eyes following him through the blinds in his office, and although the older man now seemed to be conveniently immersed in paperwork, he was not taken in by it for a minute.<p>

Bilberry too played along and pretended to look startled by Dimitri's 'sudden' appearance as he looked up from his work, "Ah Dimitri." He said loudly and none too convincingly. "I didn't realise you were back. Close the door behind you."

Gritting his teeth in preparation for yet more smarmy bullshit, Dimitri forced a smile, nodded, let himself into the room and closed the door firmly behind him. He hovered unsurely for a moment until Bilberry pointed to the battered couch in the corner of the office – Harry' couch. It had been there for as long as Dimitri had been in Section D – there were countless times he could remember Harry sitting there, mostly staring longingly or regretfully at Ruth through the blinds. She had either not noticed, been too angry with him to give him the time of day, or else _pretended_ not to notice. Dimitri could have said those were the good old days, but even then, the moments between Harry and Ruth had been quite depressing to spectate. It was odd – even after everything they had been through, especially Ruth's attack and Harry's once glistening career in tatters, they were probably closer now, and happier, than ever. Abandoning his morbid thoughts, and bringing himself back to the present, Dimitri obediently took the seat offered, and sat with Bilberry on the couch.

Now that they were alone, Bilberry lowered his voice and said quickly, "William and Ilya filled you in then did they?"

"Yes sir." Dimitri nodded. It was amazing, he thought, how incredibly thick Bilberry could be. Here he was, thinking he was part of the inner loop – a trusted accomplice of the Home Secretary and Gavrik, thinking he had the authority to call them by their forenames, an yet in private, Towers and Gavrik probably had a good laugh at him. They could easily squash a bug like Bilberry – all he was useful for was making sure the grid was successfully compromised. Yet, Dimitri had to admit, Bilberry probably thought the same about him. He on the other hand, didn't really care.

"Excellent." Bilberry nodded pompously. "You know," he said conversationally. "You're on the right side here boy. You joined the right team. There will no doubt be promotion for you after tonight and when we've got Pearce and his annoying little doormat."

Dimitri desperately wanted to punch the man right there and then, but just managed to refrain from doing so. "I know sir, that's why I'm here and not out there." He said in that cold monotonous tone he had taken to using, nodding towards the window where workers outside the office were scurrying about with picture portraits of Harry and Ruth.

"Good on you I say." Bilberry nodded approvingly. "You want a drink?" He asked, indicating the whisky decanter on the far wall – _Harry's_ whisky decanter.

Still very aware of who these people were, Dimitri shook his head and regurgitated the excuse about the medication given to him for his arm, which was still cradled in the sling. Perhaps it was the medication he had been given, or maybe even the adrenalin pumping through him, but he could not even feel any pain in his wounded arm.

"Looks painful." Bilberry commented conversationally.

"Pearce will look worse when I eventually get hold of him." Dimitri shrugged, wishing he sounded less like the people he was trained to stop.

Bilberry smiled politely and gave a small nervous laugh, which just confirmed Dimitri's prejudices on him being a coward. Senior desk spooks, with the exception of Harry and Ruth, all seemed to be pompous, puffed-up, self-righteous morons, who for all their power and position, turned out to be complete cowards. Bilberry was no different. He could dish the mental and emotion pain out on Harry and Ruth, but the slightest mention of actual physical violence, and he would become noticeably anxious. Sensing that Dimitri might have realised his awkwardness, Bilberry swiftly changed to a contrasting subject.

"You and Ms Watts are still very… friendly, I see." He observed, smirking as he watched Erin's hunched up figure, talking closely with Calum, both with their backs facing the office window.

"Oh yes." Dimitri replied in the silkiest tone he could imagine. "She's very… entertaining."

"That's one way to put it." Bilberry answered, and Dimitri could visibly see the older man's eyes sliding down Erin's figure to stare at her backside.

He nearly lost his calm, cool persona there and then – Dimitri was pretty sure that with anything but Erin, he could act the role as inhumane MI5 mole, and with Bilberry's tongue hanging out slightly, staring perversely at his almost-girlfriend's backside, he could feel himself slipping. To bring himself back in line almost as much as Bilberry, Dimitri cleared his throat, and thankfully, his boss' eyes reverted back to his.

"She doesn't suspect anything does she?" Bilberry asked suddenly, almost as if his staring at her for the past few seconds had given him incredible insight into her thoughts.

Dimitri had to admit that for a man whom they nicknamed 'Blockhead Bilberry', he was getting more intelligent by the day. He knew right there and then that if Bilberry of all people was having his suspicions aroused, then it was only a matter of time before other MI5 moles started noticing and blabbing. Then Dimitri had to remind himself that it was extremely unlikely he himself was going to come out of this situation unsuspected and untouched. For now though, he would protect Erin, Calum, Harry and Ruth for as long as time could give him.

"No I don't think so sir." He replied eventually, making sure his voice was as honest and even as he could make it, and that his eyes were staring intently at Bilberry's. In fact, his cold eyes became so unreadable that it began to frustrate Bilberry slightly, and it showed as he muttered:

"I'm not sure 'I don't think so' is enough. Tonight needs to go off without a hitch."

"Oh believe me sir," Dimitri said so confidently that even he himself was astounded by his acting abilities. "Erin knows nothing about tonight."

Bilberry stared at Dimitri for an instant as if trying to debate whether or not to take his word for it, before he nodded in satisfaction. "And what about Mr Reed?" He strained his neck slightly to get a better look out of the office window. "Those two seem to be huddled suspiciously close together."

Knowing that he would have to give something minor away otherwise Bilberry would go sniffing around Erin and Calum, Dimitri said shrugging, "I don't think they entirely agree with hunting Pearce and Evershed down. They seem to have grown quite attached to them." He smirked, trying to get some realism into his performance. "As I once was."

"What changed?" Bilberry asked, his eyebrow raised in interest.

"Money… a promotion. The chance to get somewhere for once instead of being stuck on the back bench, being overtaken to the top by a female high-flyer."

"No chance of having second thoughts about all this then?" Bilberry asked, and Dimitri knew he was testing him slightly – trying to check that he was indeed on 'the right side'. Dimitri however was careful not to react and take the bait; instead he shot Bilberry a convincing withering glance and said sharply.

"No chance. Why? What are you insinuating?"

Bilberry appeared to sense that he may have put his foot in it and so he cleared his throat, saying hastily, "Oh nothing… nothing at all. It's my job to make sure everyone's… playing on the same team, so to speak."

"Right." Dimitri muttered grimly.

Now clearly desperate to get away from that conversation topic, Bilberry asked quickly, "If Ms Watts and Mr Reed are planning to rebel against finding Harry Pearce and Ruth Evershed, then perhaps we had better do something to keep their minds off it? We haven't got time for their games tonight."

"Just what I was thinking sir," Dimitri said, pretending to be very compliant when in actual fact, all he wanted to do was flush this pathetic excuse for a man's head down the toilet. "In fact, the Home Secretary advised that Erin and I should perhaps go somewhere… quiet on the grid and…" He raised his eyebrows suggestively, and Bilberry noticeably got quite flushed at the image Dimitri was painting in his head.

"Erm… well… I don't know…"

"It would definitely keep her mind off things, wouldn't you say?" Dimitri pressed, careful not to be too eager, and instead, he forced himself in to a nonchalant, slouching posture.

Bilberry considered Dimitri's justifications for a moment before apparently agreeing. He nodded slowly but surely, a small smirk slipping across his already smarmy face. "In that case, have fun."

"Oh I will." Dimitri replied, thinking how very clichéd this conversation was becoming. He would have to get out of the office very quickly before they started enacting some cheesy Clint Eastwood scene.

He nodded once to Bilberry, got up from the battered sofa and was almost at the office door when an awful, eerie siren suddenly began to scream around the grid. It took a moment for Dimitri to realise what was going on, and when he did, he could not help but panic slightly. There was no doubt about it – the grid was going into lockdown. He hurried out of the office, Bilberry hot at his heels, and arrived just in time to see the pods slam shut, much to the shock of the two heavies outside, and the emergency red lighting flicker into prominence. He could only pray that this was some plan concocted by Erin and Calum or else it was someone working for Towers and the Gavriks'; an insurance just in case anyone tried to stop the plane. Dimitri caught Erin's eye, but she did not give anything away, perhaps because in that moment, Bilberry turned to look at the grid at large, starting with her and Calum.

"What the hell is going on?"

Dimitri frowned slightly – Bilberry seemed suitably oblivious to this recent situation and he was pretty convinced that his new boss wasn't that good an actor. Could it be that this was something to do with his friends after all?

"Don't ask me," Erin was shrugging, apparently taking to the acting lark as quickly as Dimitri had. "I thought this was you. I've heard about these legendary eerie exercises." She folded her arms across her chest and looked demandingly at Bilberry.

The older man's mouth opened and closed several times, not unlike a gasping goldfish, before he shot back, "Of course this wasn't me. You think I'd do something as trivial as this at such an important time?" He sent his best glare firing at Calum who looked back brazenly. "You – find out what's going on."

Calum looked as if he would rather like to answer back with something quite inappropriate, but thankfully he contained himself, sighing and whirling around on his chair to face his computer. The entire grid had gone completely silent, and all heads were turned towards Calum as he attempted to get into the MI5 database. So they had absolutely no idea what was going on either, Dimitri pondered thoughtfully to himself – what on earth was going on? Within a few seconds, Calum had assessed the situation:

"It's a virus." He said shortly, turning back around to face Bilberry, as if to receive praise for his efforts.

"What do you mean – a virus?" Bilberry spat. "What kind of virus?"

Calum rolled his eyes and looked exasperatedly at the other man. There was a reason they nicknamed him 'Blockhead Bilberry'.

"A _computer _virus, believe it or not." Calum replied, speaking slowly as if Bilberry was quite stupid. "If it's a particularly serious virus it can get into the MI5 network and shut down a lot of the systems in the building. It's quite harmless but MI5 protocol is that lockdown is automatically set. It's just in case a serious threat has downloaded a virus into the network to cause serious damage to us."

"But… but… where did the virus come from?" Bilberry spluttered, actually gripping tufts of his own hair in anxiety. Apparently, things weren't going very well for his plans.

"I don't know," Calum shrugged. "The only way I can find out is by getting to the control panel and mainframe downstairs, i.e. outside the pods. I can restore normal conditions on the grid relatively quickly then, and probably find out what caused the virus in the first place."

Dimitri was getting more and more suspicious by the minute. A lot of these things didn't seem to add up – for one thing, he was pretty sure that you could not find the source of the virus from the control panel – you could just do that from any computer on the grid. He forced down a small smile; this was definitely one of Calum's concocted plans. He was tempting Bilberry to let him go off the grid, probably with the information. He glanced at Bilberry and could see that the older man was reluctant to let Calum go off the grid, especially when he was already so suspicious of him.

"Fine," Bilberry growled reluctantly, squeezing his hands into fists. "Go and fix it, but I want someone to go with you."

Calum snickered, "I'm a big boy now – I think I can find my way to the control room without a minder."

Bilberry strategically ignored the younger man and turned to Dimitri, "Go with him would you?" He added in an overtone. "I don't trust him. If he's in league with Pearce, then this virus might have been one of his or Ms Evershed's concoctions. If Mr Reed isn't escorted, I don't trust him not to contact them. He might refuse flat out to fix it then."

Dimitri sighed, making out as if the task was a chore before nodding in apparent reluctance, "Fine." He huffed before asking, "I'll take Erin with me, if that's okay? Keep and eye on both of them, and then she and I can…"

Bilberry nodded, his face brightening somewhat, as if everything was now coming together again. "Yes." He nodded, in a tone that might have illustrated Dimitri as the greatest genius in the world. "Yes of course… good idea."

Dimitri nodded gratefully before turning back to Erin and Calum, the latter of which was now holding what appeared to be a laptop case. Dimitri could only pray that Calum was not stupid enough as to hide the list of names either on the laptop or in the cases various compartments. Bilberry seemed to be thinking the same thing because he snapped, suddenly worked up again, "Why have you got a bag? You don't need a bag to fix a computer network."

"I think you'll find I do." Calum contested pleasantly. "I might need my tools, and my laptop to connect to the control panel."

Bilberry glared at the younger man for a moment, clearly not liking this turn of events at all before nodding grudgingly. Dimitri decided to divert attention away from Calum and the laptop by saying loudly: "We'll need to get the pods open first." He caught sight of the two heavies tapping and banging uselessly against the glass pods. They looked very big and very mean, but in actual fact, Dimitri thought, this was to cover for the fact that they had no brains. Still, he decided to use this to his advantage; having those two help open the pods would further divert attention away from Calum and the laptop, which may or may not be carrying the vital list of names. "Can those two help?"

With everyone's eyes on him, Dimitri strode towards the pods and gestured to the two bewildered men to use their immense weights to open the pods manually. Calum also moved forward to help following a staged glare from Dimitri, whilst Erin hung back, sensing that she was supposed to be playing the weak woman at this moment in time. She had guessed from the look Dimitri had given her that he thought the information was hidden in Calum's laptop, but she had no way to convey this to him other than orally, that the microdot of information was currently hidden in her mouth.

Within moments the pods had been opened wide enough for Dimitri and Calum to fit through, and although she had overheard Dimitri telling Bilberry that she was to come too, Erin initially waited until Dimitri indicated for her to come too. She made a great display of frowning, as if wondering why she was going along, which Bilberry seemed suitably satisfied at.

Once out of the grid, the three looked at each other carefully before all walking down the exiting corridor. Things were going remarkably well until one of the heavies stopped Calum with a hand on his shoulder.

"We'll have to check your bag sir." His eyes travelled over Dimitri and Erin. "And yourselves."

Dimitri's stomach jolted in panic, "Oh come on," he said frustrated. "We're trying to find some particularly dangerous criminals and the computer networks gone down – we need to fix it. We haven't got time for all this."

"It's just my orders sir." The tall, burly man said in a placating tone, and without asking, he snatched the laptop shoulder bag from Calum and began to remove its contents. Dimitri and Erin stood quite still as the other man checked their person without success before joining his colleague in searching Calum and looking through his stuff. One of the men actually opened up the laptop and was in the midst of searching through Calum's files when Erin snapped heatedly: "I'm quite convinced that it is not in your security clearance to look through confidential files. If you continue to peruse my colleague's work, you will suffer severe consequences."

The look which the two heavies shared a look that told the three of them quite plainly that they did not really have the clearance to be doing this, so they hastily snapped th laptop shut and continued to rifle through Calum's material goods. Eventually, one of them drew out a large bag of sweets and eyed Calum suspiciously:

"What are these?"

Calum rather looked as if he would like to burst out laughing at their stupidity but he restrained himself, "They're gobstoppers." He replied, his expression unreadable.

"And why do you need gobstoppers to go and fix a computer network?"

"They were just already in the bag." Calum shrugged. "Look, we really need to get on… if you haven't found anything, could you just put those back…"

The three then watched in amazement as the man then tipped the open bag of gobstoppers upside down and let its contents fall onto a nearby table, before looking through them.

"-After they've been counted of course." Calum deadpanned, watching several of his favourite kinds of sweet fall and bounce unceremoniously onto the floor. "Once we're done, I'll return with a dust pan and brush for you."

Erin hit Calum round the back of the head to warn him against being so comedic, and he looked suitably ashamed. Dimitri had to admit that the two burly men actually looked quite disappointed that nothing had been found; then again, they had been standing around all day doing and finding practically nothing. In this case, Dimitri was glad they had not, but that did beg the question – where on earth was the information. Hidden in Calum's laptop? Erin was right, they probably did not have clearance to be looking at a junior officer's files, but still… surely that would be stupidly obvious? Calum's laptop, lead, papers and now empty packet of gobstoppers were replaced less than tidily back into his bag, and eventually they were allowed to pass.

"They nicked my gobstoppers." Calum objected as the three of them strode off down the corridor.

"Shut up." Erin snapped.

Once they were safely out of earshot, Dimitri mumbled to the pair, still looking straight ahead: "Was the virus you?"

"Of course it was." Calum muttered, apparently a little annoyed that Erin had told him to be quiet. "Who else would it be?"

"Ruth?" Dimitri suggested.

"Come on Dimitri," Calum smirked. "Do you think Ruth would be so stupid as to download a virus into the MI5 mainframe? Firstly, she's a researcher, not a techie and-"

"She's a great hacker." Erin pointed out reasonably.

"Look never mind about that now," Dimitri hissed as they approached the control room. "Where's the information?"

"I've got it." Erin murmured, as the three of them turned into the control room which thankfully was empty. Fortunately, they didn't have to worry about cameras too much in there, because with the grid in lockdown, they wouldn't be able to access CTV footage – the cameras would have gone down anyway.

Dimitri turned to stare at her in surprise as she closed the door behind them. "You've got it? But," he frowned. "How did you get it past Tom and Jerry back there?"

"Ever heard of the tooth implantation technique – invented by Malcolm Wynn-Jones?" Calum asked, checking that Erin had locked the door firmly behind them.

"No."

"Oh," Calum said, looking slightly crestfallen that only seemed to idolise this man's work. "Pity."

"But if you've not got the list, then what's with the bag and laptop?" Dimitri demanded.

"I really am going to fix the systems," Calum replied smartly, unzipping his bag and hooking his computer up to the main panel. "You and Erin are going to talk to Harry and Ruth and save the world. Good luck." Without looking at them, he pointed to the other side of the room, where a large metal cabinet stood in the relative darkness. "There's a microdot reader in there."

"What?" Dimitri asked, now quite confused, but going to fetch the said object all the same. "Why do we need a microdot reader?"

His question was soon answered as he picked the device off the top shelf of the cabinet and turned to see Erin pulling a small microdot from her mouth. "How on earth did you do that?" he asked, impressed.

Erin shrugged, "Another time maybe."

Dimitri had to agree that there were more pressing matters, so he let the question drop. Erin handed him the microdot and he slotted it into the reader.

"Got a clear view?" Erin asked as Dimitri focused in on the document.

"Yeah." Dimitri answered after a few seconds, reaching into hiss jacket pocket and handing his phone to Erin. "Call Harry and Ruth. It's time."

**Hope you enjoyed that anyway. More soon-ish, with Harry and Ruth? Please review :)**


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